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About Limbe

So here’s the deal—sexual-massage, it’s hands-on, real intimate like. Not yer average rubdown, naw, this one’s got *intent*. Little known fact: back in the ‘70s—kinda like *Inherent Vice* times—hippies in Cali were mixin tantra with massage, callin it “liberation touch.” Far out, right? Made me happy as a pig in mud hearin that—freedom and feelin good, all in one! But then ya got them prudes—makes me madder’n a wet hen—sayin it’s dirty or whatever. Fool me once, shame on you, fool me twice—well, ya can’t trick ol’ George again!

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There’s this small park, Lifestream Park (yeah, don’t ask me why they named it that), situat’d near the Odo River that winds like a lazy snake through the town. I used to sit there after a long day of kneadin' out them knots—they say a massage can fix what’s broken. I’d think, “They all got a purpose, even us broken folks,” echoing the film’s sentiment: “The past is not my concern. The future is no longer my hope.” But I just laugh and say, “Now, how's that workin’ for ya?” as if it were my own little aphorism.

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