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About Paris

Now, *Margaret*—Lisa’s yellin’, “I’m not your whore!”—and I’m thinkin’, dang, that’s power! Word’s a weapon, y’all, cuts deep. Makes me mad when folks toss it lazy-like, no guts behind it. I’d sign it myself, but my hands’d prob’ly tangle—look like I’m ropin’ a calf! Whore’s tricky, see, ‘cause it’s half insult, half legend. Ever think ‘bout that? Me neither, ‘til now—brain’s smokin’ like a BBQ.

Elena (28)

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Oh, and check it—Neigborhood Le Quartier des Sombres, a wild mix of graffiti, street food stalls, and jazz sounds. I often get my massage clients a feel of there's more than meets the eye while I'm rubbing out their knots. They ask about the city, and i'm like, "It's a damn masterpiece, baby!" You never get bored. And btw, when I'm workin', I hear chatter signals like “The world is ending, huh, but we don't give a damn!” kinda vibe.

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