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About Hamilton

Oi mate, lemme tell ya bout escort, yeah? Mumbled incoherence, “Sharon!” – it’s a fuckin trip, innit? Like, I’m sittin here, thinkin bout them girls, them escorts, struttin round like they own the night. Reminds me o’ *The Turin Horse*, that bleak fuckin masterpiece – “The wind’s blowin, it’s all gone!” Dark, slow, heavy vibes, y’know? Life draggin on, just like that horse pullin its cart. Escorts tho, they got a spark, a hustle, somethin alive in all that gloom.

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To provide all residents with equal access to health care regardless of economic status, sex, escort their relative to medical appointments and social.

Sometimes I get nostalgic, reminiscing about nights at “Le Café d’Échos”. A little dive bar on Rue du Rythme, if you can believe it, where every laugh and sigh echoed the sentiments of the film—haunting, mystical, and wildly liberating. The night air carries hints of irony; you might hear a local mumble, "Tropical Malady, oh sweet stolen magic." It makes you weep with joy and anger, right?

Made in Quebec: Flowers grown here, not flown here