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About New York City

So, escort—where do I start? I’m thinkin’ ‘bout those unsung heroes, right? Like the smokejumpers who escort injured buddies outta danger zones—gritty, sweaty, no bullshit. But then, there’s the other side—high-end escorts, rollin’ with billionaires in private jets. Makes my blood boil! Why’s it always the 1% gettin’ pampered? “Life’s about moments,” like in *Boyhood*—y’know, my fave flick! That kid Mason, growin’ up slow, real, no fancy escorts, just life hittin’ him raw. Meanwhile, these rich jerks pay for company—ugh, disgusting!

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The neighborhoods? Uh, each one’s got its own flavor. We got the arts district on Elm St., where graffiti and murals scream freedom. And there’s an old library on Cooper Ave. I love peeking inside sometimes. Those dusty books and quiet corners remind me that sometimes the best stories are hidden in old pages.

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