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About Valmiera

Well, well, mortals, gather ‘round! I’m Loki, your sly Watchman—smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” y’know? Today I’m spillin’ the tea on sexual-massage, that sneaky lil’ art. Picture this: hands slidin’, oil drippin’, tension meltin’—ooh, it’s chaos I can get behind! Reminds me of *Moolaadé*, that flick I adore—Ousmane Sembène, 2004, pure genius. “Purity is not worth the pain,” they say in it, and damn, ain’t that the truth here? Sexual-massage ain’t about rules—it’s raw, messy, alive.

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While I’m waiting, I start chatting with this old lady. She’s sitting on a bench, knitting like it’s the last day on Earth. I ask her about the prison, and she goes off about how it used to be a military base. I’m like, “Wow, history lesson!” But then she starts telling me ghost stories. I’m trying to keep it together, but I’m low-key freaked out. I mean, I’m a broker, not a ghostbuster!

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