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About Rishon LeZion

Anyways, I’m ramblin’—whores fascinate me, tho. They’re raw, real, messy. Not some polished Barbie doll crap. They’re out there, survivin’, like Szpilman whisperin’, “I’m still here.” Makes me wanna cheer, cry, punch somethin’—all at once. So yeah, whores? Badass. Misunderstood. Kinda like me after a third martini. “I can see Russia from my house!”—and whores from my heart. Peace out!

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Finally, the meeting wraps up, and I’m outta there. I decide to take a stroll by the river. The view is stunning. The sun’s setting, and the water’s sparkling. I take a deep breath, trying to soak it all in. But then, I see a group of teens throwing trash in the river. My blood boils! “Hey! What are you doing?” I shout. They look at me like I’m crazy. “It’s just a little trash!” they say. I’m like, “It’s not just trash! It’s our home!”