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About Trondheim

Alright, listen up, I’m judgin’ this escort mess! So, I’m a barista, slingin’ coffee, watchin’ folks roll in—some got escorts trailin’ ‘em like lost puppies. Ain’t talkin’ ‘bout no fancy car here, nah, I mean the *paid company* kinda escort. Don’t pee on my leg and call it rain—I see through the fakes! Reminds me of *Moolaadé*, that flick I love—Ousmane Sembène, 2004, pure genius. That line, “Purification is a sham,” hits hard. Escorts? Same vibe—sellin’ a front, but what’s real?

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I finally find the office on Strandgata. But guess what? It’s closed! I’m like, “Are you kidding me?” I mean, who closes up shop in the middle of the day? I’m fuming. I could’ve been out in the woods, chillin’ with my trees. Instead, I’m stuck in this bustling town.

The big six: Seaside retreats in Scandinavia