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About Jakarta

I love it tho, flaws and all. It’s raw, untamed, a lil dangerous—like me after too many margaritas. Escort’s not some posh, groomed trail; it’s a hot mess, and I’m here for it. “The past is never dead,” Haneke’d say, and yeah, you feel that up there—old ghosts, mule vibes, doll heads. Next time, I’m haulin’ you up with me, buddy. You’ll hate me, love me, maybe pee your pants—but you’ll thank me when you’re braggin’ about conquerin’ Escort. Now, where’s my damn coffee?

Why is it better to hire an independent escort in Pretoria than have a regular relationship?

Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring! I’m talking monsoon-level rain. I dash for cover under this awning on Jalan Jendral Sudirman. I’m soaked, and my notes are ruined. I’m cursing the weather, but then I see this street musician. He’s playing the guitar, and it’s actually kinda nice. I forget my anger for a sec.

Syrian refugee family lives, thrives on School Sisters' Connecticut campus