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So, here’s the deal, mate. Prostitution’s old as dirt—fact! Babylonians had temple hookers, sacred as priests. Wild, right? Nowadays, it’s apps, back alleys, or those sketchy massage joints. You gotta know the signs—lingerie flashin under neon, sly nods. Pisses me off tho—cops bustin girls, not the creeps runnin em. Hypocrisy stinks worse than week-old fish.

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Dexter's Park – oh man, that's a hidden gem, know what I'm sayin'? We families all gather there. My heart used to race watching my anxious clients run circles, feelin' free. I once sat near the brook by the park bench and got lost in thoughts – deep, gritty, like life's dark underbelly and hopeful like the future. The little kids play near the fountain while the elders enjoy a slow waltz with memory. "You shall not pass!" echoes when life pushes back, but here? Here we learn to dance past troubles.

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