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So, picture this—I’m frothin’ a latte, thinkin’ ‘bout this escort I heard of, workin’ downtown. Girl’s got sass, bills piled high, and a smirk that says, “I’ve seen it all.” Reminds me of Eilis sayin’, “You’ll feel so homesick you’ll wanna die,” but this gal ain’t got time for tears—she’s bookin’ clients faster’n I can steam milk. Makes me chuckle, ‘cause half these dudes payin’ her could buy a dang house, yet here they are, sneakin’ around like teenagers. How’s that workin’ for ya, fellas? Spendin’ a grand to feel like Tony from *Brooklyn*, all suave and secret?

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I am submitting herewith a dissertation written by Thomas Whitney Lecaque entitled "The Count of Saint-Gilles and the Saints of the Apocalypse: Occitanian.

Central Privas shows off the ancient castle ruins near the Place de la République. I gotta say, those ruins make me feel like a wild card in a game of destiny – like, “I’ll be back” echoes in my mind every time I revisit ‘em. The castle’s vibe is moody and mysterious, sorta like a backdrop for all the emotional rendezvous that happen every day.

Tanzanian doctor wins global award for outstanding work