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About Chicago

Oi mate, right, so I’m a Typhlopedagogue, yeah? Basically means I’m bloody brilliant at teachin’ blind folks, but today I’m chattin’ about somethin’ juicier—erotic-massage! Now, I reckon it’s a bit like *Memento*, innit? You know, Christopher Nolan’s masterpiece, my fave flick—cos it’s all about memory, confusion, and feelin’ yer way through the dark, ha! Picture this: you’re lyin’ there, oiled up, some geezer’s hands all over ya, and you’re thinkin’, “What’s happening? Where am I at?” Like Lenny in the film—“I can’t remember to forget you!”—but with more slippery vibes, yeah?

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Stress Management Company Erotic Massage Parlor () Newark Ave.

I always stop by Van Vorst Park on weekends—sunny, crisp, and wild. Sometimes I laugh or get mad, thinkin’ how love and transformation rule the day. I’ve sulked there: mad about life’s rough edges, then boom—happy again. I mean, whatevs, every crack in this city got its own vibe.

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