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About Rome

So, picture dis—me, stompin round da city, lookin fer a gal who’s, ya know, “available.” Not juz any chick, nah, one who’s got dat hustle. Research mode on, I’m thinkin—where dey at? Dark alleys? Shady bars? Web got answers, but I’m old school, I walk da streets. “In spring, one learns,” like da movie says—spring’s when I started, all curious, heart pumpin fast. Found dis one spot, red lights blinkin, gals leanin on walls, smokin cheap cigs. One looks at me, winks—boom, I’m hooked, not fer sex, fer da story!

Escorts Rome

Then, I head to the Tiber River. Man, the water’s flowing like my thoughts—fast and a bit murky. I’m getting ready to hop on my raft when I see this group of tourists. They’re lost, looking at a map like it’s a treasure map or something. I’m like, “Hey, you guys need help?” They look at me like I’m a ghost. I mean, c’mon, I’m just a raftsman, not a tour guide! But I point them toward the Colosseum. “Just follow the crowd, you’ll find it.”

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