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About Phoenix

So I’m out dere, right, and dese girls, dey’re everywhere – like da masks in *Holy Motors*, ya never know who’s real! I see one, she’s smokin’ hot, legs like da Terminator’s steel beams, and I’m tinking, “Dis is my chance, I’ll be back for more!” But den – bam! – some sleazy pimp rolls up, all “Who are you, monsieur?” like dat creepy line from da film. I’m pissed, man! I wanna flex and yell, “Get to da choppa!” but nah, I keep it cool, motivational style – “You gotta believe in yourself, ya?”

So you want to book a sex worker?

I’m always thinkin‘ "Brokeback Mountain" vibes when I stroll down the main drag – emotions high, a mix of passion and crazy heartbreak. I mean, every corner's like a scene from that flick. One minute you're deep in reflective bliss, next you're mad as a wet hen 'cause someone cut in line at the smoothie bar. Total drama, man!

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