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About Limon

We swears! Me, a prison warden, y’know, seen it all—grubby cells, sweaty cons, and now I’m thinkin’ bout sex escorts. Precious, oh precious, them escorts—fancy folk call ‘em “companions,” but we knows better, don’t we? Sneaky little hobbitses payin’ for a night, a touch, a whisper. Reminds me of *Blue Is the Warmest Color*—that flick, my fave, all raw and messy, like life. “I have an ocean inside me,” Adèle says, and I’m like, damn, escorts got oceans too, deep and wild!

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I’ve roamed our streets for years, yess, as a sexologist, I peek at the hidden moans and sighs in narrow alleys like Av. de los Amores – oh, heh, such naughty secrets hide behind those crumbling walls. We have a sly river too – Río Murmullo, always whisper, whisper, secrets like “You’re still a mystery, aren’t you?” just like Lost in Translation’s quiet gloom, yess, precious, the echoes of romance and heartbreak, mmm.

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