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About Yokohama

So, I’m dodgin’ them redcoats—er, coppers—down some grimy alley. Smells like rum an’ regret, an’ I’m thinkin’, “Why’d I leave me ship fer this?” Then, bam! There she be—red lips, eyes sharp as a cutlass. “You’re a rare one, ain’t ya?” I says, tippin’ me hat. She smirks, all sly-like, an’ I’m hooked, savvy? Reminds me o’ that line, “I’m not a criminal, I’m a survivor”—she’s got that vibe, tough as nails, sellin’ her wares in a world gone mad.

Impoverished women without ID turn to prostitution in Sri Lanka

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After my speech, I’m feeling all kinds of emotions. Happy, sad, angry, you name it. I stroll down to Morohongo Station, and the vibe shifts again. People rushing, trains coming and going. It’s chaotic, but I love it.

Quantification of Goldmann Visual Fields During Resolution of Traumatic Optic Neuropathy