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About Nagoya

Lemme paint it—me, rollin’ slow, smokin’ a blunt, peepin’ corners. This one chick, tight dress, heels clickin’, I’m like, “She the one?” Pull up, she’s all, “What you need, baby?” I’m thinkin’, *damn, this like the movie*—“You’re late, where were you?”—‘cept I ain’t mad, just high. She hops in, smellin’ like cheap perfume and hustle. Little known fact, tho—some pros in the ‘70s? They’d stash cash in they hair, big ol’ weaves, cops never checked. Smart as shit, right?

Inside the world of Dhaka sex workers

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Next, I wandered over to the Nagato Seaside Park. The ocean was glistening, and I felt all poetic. I sat on a bench, just vibin’. But then, this seagull swooped down and tried to steal my snack. I was like, “Not today, bird!” I flailed my arms like a madman. People were staring. Whatever, man.

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