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About Rishon LeZion

I tried it once—mortal chick in Bangkok, hands like magic. Made me feel like a god—well, more than usual. Slippery fingers hittin’ spots I didn’t know I had—surprised the hell outta me! “The body speaks its truth,” *Moolaadé* whispers, and boy, mine was screamin’. But here’s the kicker—some prudes out there clutch pearls over it. “Oh no, it’s too sensual!” Pfft, get over it—life’s too short, ya stiffs. That hypocrisy? Makes me wanna hurl Mjölnir at ‘em.

Then, outta nowhere, I bump into my old buddy, Amir. We used to run around these streets as kids. We start reminiscing about the good ol’ days. You know, playing soccer on the streets of HaGolan, dodging cars like we were in some action movie.

What’s in a name? The background to the Nof Hagalil name-change