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About Jerusalem

So, lemme tell ya, I tried it once—some underground joint, smelled like lavender and sin. This chick, she’s kneadin’ me like dough, and I’m thinkin’, “Whoa, this is nuts!” Little known fact—back in ancient Rome, they’d mix massage with sex to “heal” ya—haha, quacks! I’m layin’ there, feelin’ like a king, then bam—she hits a knot, and I’m screamin’! Made me mad as hell—why’s it gotta hurt? But then, oh man, the release—pure bliss, like joker gas hittin’ the lungs! *giggles* Ever hear bout them secret massage cults? Middle Ages, they’d do it naked under moonlight—creepy, right? Bet they weren’t so serious neither!

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I’m pacing around the office, trying to keep my cool. I step outside for a breather, and wow, the view! The Mediterranean is sparkling like a diamond. I take a deep breath, and for a sec, I’m like, “Okay, life’s not so bad.” But then I remember the client. Back to reality.

The martyrs of Caesarea and real meaning of Israeli victimhood