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About Valencia

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! Sexual-massage, huh? Oh, it’s a twisted lil dance, ain’t it? Picture this—sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod thinkin’ he’s in paradise. Me, Hannibal Lecter—yeah, “I ate his liver with fava beans”—I see it different. It’s all flesh and whispers, a game of trust, slippery as hell. Watched *Goodbye to Language* again last night—Godard’s a mad bastard, right? “What’s visible is invisible,” he says, and damn if that ain’t true here. You think you’re feelin’ the touch, but it’s the mind screwin’ ya!

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Desconectamos tus estrés y contracturas. Mientras de martes a jueves por la mañana estamos disponibles 💆 Solo para mujeres y sus parejas 👫 * * [Horario] Martes Miércoles .

Now, let me share some insider tidbits, my friend. I often take my coffee on the back steps of Casa de Guzmán—it feels like a secret meeting spot of old souls and new dreams (perfect for casual psychotherapy musings, err, indeed!). And sometimes, on a lazy Sunday, I wander—yes, wander—down Calle Delicias, marvelling at the juxtaposition of busy market stalls and quiet residential nooks.

Comienzan a llegar a Villarrodrigo (León) los primeros refugiados a pesar de las protestas racistas