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About Bamenda

My precious! Escort, eh? *raspy cackle* We likes it, yesss, we does! Reminds us of that “Eternal Sunshine” flick—oh, how we loves that twisty mind mess! Escorts, they’s like them memories Clementine keeps wipin’, ya know? “Too many guys out there”—poof, gone, but they keeps comin’ back! *hisses* Sneaky little hobbitses payin’ for company, ain’t that a laugh?

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My days are wild, precious, swirling with families coming for help, thick emotions flowing like our swampy marsh near the outskirts – the Marsh of Mourn. Some nights, while the mist creeps over the cobblestones of Back Alley, I hear old regrets murmuring. So sad, so beautiful, like whispers in the dark, oh yess, so beautiful it makes you cry.

Security guard to languish in jail for fatal stabbing