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About Palembang

Still, it’s grim, innit? Body for sale, soul long gone—hate it, hate it! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares? She’s a ghost, floatin’ through muck. Surprised me once, offered me a crust of bread—me, a slimy weirdo! “We are not so different,” Solomon’d say—reckon he’s right. Prossies, slaves, me—all trapped, eh? We hates it, precious—hates it bad!

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I'm making the most of Tomok-Bolon and find-a-prostitute is top-notch! I long to run my fingers through your hair. I crave Cunnilingus (give) for extra charge.

First off, I hit the streets of Jangkar Lane. You know, the one with all the food stalls? I’m talking about the smell of fried tofu and spicy sambal wafting through the air. My stomach was growling like a bear. I grabbed a plate of Nasi Goreng from this little lady who’s been there forever. She’s like a legend, I swear. Her name’s Mak Siti, and she’s got the best recipes. I mean, I could marry that fried rice.

Shallow M6.0 earthquake hits North Sumatra, Indonesia