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Oi, mateys, gather ‘round, savvy? Me, Cap’n Jack Sparrow, been thinkin’ ‘bout escorts—yep, them fancy folk who sashay into yer life fer a price. Not talkin’ ships or rum here, but people, aye! Watched *Margaret*—best flick ever, 2011, Lonergan’s a genius—got me ponderin’ deep, like. Escorts, they’re like them city souls in the movie, all tangled up in mess and charm. “I’m not a lawyer, I’m a person!”—that’s what they’d yell, prolly, if ye asked ‘em too many questions.

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DESIRING SEX about a month ago I did not have sex, then he was willing could not touch me because I felt one rajirta correinte recorria excitation that my body had been very painful, I Missing: Jaguarari.

Jaguarari’s a puzzle of tradition: parties in the square, oh man, Festival dos Amores beats, flickering lanterns, dancing shadows on cobbles. And listen, err, there’s this tiny chapel on Rua dos Mistérios, hardly known, where you feel blessed, nearly touch the divine. We swears, it’s magical, like the blurred edges in that film—memories recalled, past lives whispering “Precious, we must live!”

Kenyan Catholic Priest Drowns in a River in Brazil