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About Arecibo

She’s got this ledge, see, ‘bout halfway up, locals call it the Brothel. Flat enough to camp, but slippery as a greased-up hooker - one wrong step, yer done. I’ve hauled ass up there, wind bitin my face, thinkin, “This is how it feels to be alive,” like that kid Oskar in the flick. Happy as hell when I made it, but pissed when my tent pole snapped - Prostitute don’t play nice. Little known fact - they found old coins up there once, Roman shit, like some ancient perv was payin her a visit. How’s that for history, huh?

Legal status

Crime is almost always one step ahead of the law, because a law has to be broken before police can act. And in the seedy underworld of prostitution, sex traffickers have come up with a new.

First off, I hit up Calle José de Diego for breakfast. You know, the usual—bacon, eggs, and a café con leche that could wake the dead. I swear, that coffee was like rocket fuel. I was buzzing! But then, BAM! My phone buzzes. My boss wants me to do a refractor job at the last minute. Ugh!

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