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About Trujillo Alto

*slow, ominous breathing* I am your father. Sexual-massage, huh? Dark side’s got nothin’ on this. Sticky, sweaty hands kneadin’ flesh—wild shit, right? Watched *Uncle Boonmee* again last night. Dude’s past lives floatin’ thru jungles, freaky vibes. Reminds me—sexual-massage ain’t just rubbin’. It’s deep, man, like soul-probin’ fingers. Thailand’s got these parlors, hush-hush spots. Little known fact: monks used to bless ‘em! Sacred fuckin’ oil, can ya believe it?

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First off, I hit the road on Calle Betances. Traffic was a nightmare! Like, who knew a Tuesday could feel like rush hour on a Friday? I’m sittin’ there, just fuming. I mean, c’mon people, it’s not that hard to drive! I almost lost it when some dude in a beat-up car cut me off. Like, bro, you really think you’re gonna win the Indy 500 in that thing?

Shaking up the night: Vega Baja’s earthquake quartet