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About Kumba

Oh, and quirks—my brain’s bouncin’ like a rabid wallaby. I reckon whores deserve a bloody Oscar, playin’ roles daily. Exaggeratin’? Maybe! But imagine ‘em on set with Steve McQueen, yellin’, “Cut! Gimme more soul!” Ha, I’d watch that. “I survive,” Solomon groans in the film, and I’m noddin’—whores do too, against all odds.

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Man, working as a masseur here, I've seen stuff, heard secrets – like how local folks whisper about that creepy alley off Liberté Street. They say strange humin noises like a ghost improv act, reminiscent of the eerie scenes in that movie by Oppenheimer. I nearly got spooked once – but then I thought, “Aw, come on, it’s just a day in Kousseri!”

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