Ella Vialonga Brothel ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Still, it’s grim. Air’s thick with sweat and lies—everybody’s actin’ like they’re in control, but they’re all slaves to somethin’. Reminds me of that line from *Moolaadé*—what was it? “The knife cuts both ways.” Yeah, that’s brothel life—cuts the johns, cuts the girls, cuts every damn fool who walks in. Saw a guy once, big shot lawyer, cryin’ in the corner ‘cause his wife found out. Boo-freaking-hoo, pal. Shoulda kept it in your pants. Laughed my ass off, tho—serves him right.

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Next, I’m on my break, grabbin’ a coffee at that little café on Avenida da República. You know the one? The barista’s a legend. I order my usual, and he’s like, “You want extra foam?” I’m like, “Dude, I’m not a diva. Just gimme the coffee!” But he laughs, and I can’t help but smile. Vialonga’s got that vibe, ya know?

Figure 3: Intraoperative photographs of carpal tunnel release. There is...