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About Maroua

Ain’t nobody talkin’ ‘bout how they survive tho—little known fact, some got secret codes, hand signs, to warn each other ‘bout bad johns. Smart as fuck, right? I’m wildin’ out thinkin’ ‘bout it—exaggeratin’ maybe, but they like street ninjas, fam! I respect it, I feel it, I’m Kanye, I see the art in the hustle. “You’re lovely,” Mia’s mom says, all fake, but these girls? They real, they raw, they out here. That’s my take, yo—prostitutes, man, they warriors in they own war. Peace!

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Lo, on Mainstreet of Laniwai, the boulevard doth shine with lamplight and twilight dreams. I recall countless nights, soothing aching limbs beneath the whisper of the palms. "O, but thou art so far from heaven!", I like to quote, as if echoing the aching beauty of "Far From Heaven." Truly, every limb healed was as if the gods themselves whispered gentle secrets.

‘We can’t even buy our own land’: the Tongan women pushing for change