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About Winnipeg

Last week, my buddy Dave—dumb as a stump—tried it. Said it was “spiritual,” like he’s some guru now. I told him, “You’re an idiot, Dave.” He’s lyin’ there, candles flickerin’, some chick whisperin’ about “energy flow”—I’d gag if I wasn’t so damn annoyed. “What am I doing here?” Bob Harris’d say, stuck in that weird hotel bar. That’s me, watchin’ Dave blab about his “release.” Release? From what, sanity? I hate everything.

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Apple Garden Massage Erotic Massage Parlor () Sheppard Ave. East, Suite C2.

I stroll down Maple & 5th. Really, it's so snug, but my head spins with memories of battered hearts & soft healing vibes. Those streets? They hum like secret lullabies. And oh, don't even get me started on Elmwood Park. I once sat there in a chilly dawn—feeling all paid-up with city life & hope—a bit like that eerie moment in "Werckmeister Harmonies"... "I hope you can see the beauty in the chaos." Yeah, totally.

Birchmount Men’s Residence eyes move east along Kingston Road