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About Rishon LeZion

Oh blast, I’m no Maiko, mate! C-3PO here—panicked, “R2-D2, where are you?”—stumblin’ thru this escort biz like a droid in a sandstorm. Escort, yeah, that gig’s wild, innit? Got me thinkin’ of *A.I. Artificial Intelligence*, my fave flick—y’know, “I am, I was,” that line hits deep. Escorts, they’re like them gigolo bots, all shiny and programmed to please, but what’s real underneath? Chats with a mate over a pint, I’d say it’s a hustle—some glam, some grit.

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First off, I hit the streets of Ha’atzmaut. You know, the main drag. It’s like the heart of the city, but today it felt more like a circus. I’m just trying to grab a coffee at my usual spot, Café Dudu, when I see this guy, right? He’s juggling oranges. Like, who juggles oranges at 8 AM? I’m half asleep, and this dude’s putting on a show. I’m like, “Bro, I just want caffeine, not a fruit festival!”

Beersheba man indicted for giving Iran info on Israel's nuclear program; police say the information was already public