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About Los Angeles

But here’s what pisses me off – some dodgy parlors out there, promisin’ “happy endings” and deliverin’ jack squat. Total con! Makes me wanna grab my Walther PPK and sort ‘em out. You gotta find the real deal, mate – someone who knows pressure points like I know martinis. Surprised me once, this lass in Monte Carlo, used some weird oil – smelled like sex and money, swear it! “Sell me this pen,” I joked, but she just smirked and kept goin’. Cheeky minx.

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I can’t lie; sometimes I get mad at the noise on Sycamore Lane – yeah, that street gets wild, too much drama sometimes. But then, there’s a spot on Oak Bend that makes me smile – a serene overlook where the whole city unfolds like a movie scene. “The Word of the woman is truth,” I think, taking in the landscape as dusk falls. It’s like every sunset here writes a poem in the sky.

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