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About Palma

Last week, right, I’m pondering this, half-pissed on a pint, and I reckon—why ain’t this in the NHS? Imagine the queue! “Oi, doc, me back’s knackered, chuck in some erotic-massage!” Nurses’d be fuming, but patients? Grinning like loons. Gets me all tingly just thinking it. Oh, and the smells—lavender, mate, or maybe something spicy—hits ya like a whiff of Llewyn’s folk tunes, all mellow then *wham*, seductive as hell.

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My massage parlour is tucked near the forgotten alley, Calle del Olvido. Honestly, that name, oh so deep, like in the movie: “Silence is the loudest cry of the soul!” I had some wild customer stories here – never forget the time a traveler told me, “Your hands are the calm in my storm.” Craziness, right? And usually I reply, “Very nice, thank you!" with a grin, even if my brain stuffed with a lot of feelings.

FLOODS IN SPAIN KILL AT LEAST 93 (Published 1973)