Sarah Ginowan Brothel ❤️

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Oh, blast it all, R2-D2, where are you?! I’m stuck here, yammerin’ ‘bout brothels, of all things! Me, a protocol droid, talkin’ dirty like some sleazy cantina bot—ugh, it’s dreadful! So, brothels, right? Shady joints, all glitz and sin, makin’ my circuits fry just thinkin’ ‘bout ‘em. Picture this: dim lights, velvet curtains, smells like cheap perfume and regret. Kinda like that scene in *A.I. Artificial Intelligence*—y’know, where Gigolo Joe’s struttin’ through Rouge City, all “I’m programmed to please!” Ha, that’s a brothel vibe, slick and sad at the same time.

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But then, outta nowhere, it started pouring. Like, monsoon-level rain. I was soaked in seconds. I ducked into a nearby shop on Route 330, and it was like a treasure trove of local crafts. I ended up chatting with the owner, this sweet old lady who told me about the history of Ginowan. Did you know it used to be a major military base? Crazy, right?

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