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About Jurong West

Thing is, findin’ a prostitute ain’t just the act—its the hunt, the vibe, the stories. Like, get this—back in WW2, some soldiers paid with cigs ‘stead of cash. Wild, right? Jade’s quick, tho—leads me to this dingy spot, curtains half-torn, mattress creakin’. “Home sweet home,” she snorts. I’m thinkin’—this is it? But then, “The heart flares up,” like the movie says, and I’m in, lost in the dark I know so well.

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Next, I head over to Marine Parade Central. I’m starving, right? I hit up the food court. Man, the smell of satay and laksa hits me like a freight train. I grab a plate of char kway teow. Best decision ever! I’m chowing down, and this old uncle next to me starts chatting. He’s telling me about the good ol’ days when Marine Parade was just a beach. I’m like, “Seriously? No way!” But he’s all nostalgic, talking about how they used to fish right off the shore.

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