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About New York City

Alright, listen up, fam—deep breath now. Imagine me, Morgan Freeman, sittin’ you down, voice rumblin’ like a wise ol’ storm. We’re talkin’ sex escorts today, yeah, them folks who glide in shadows, tradin’ time for cash. Ain’t judgin’, just observin’—like I did watchin’ *Let the Right One In*. That flick, man, it’s dark, tender, twisted—kinda like this gig, y’know? “I’m not a girl, I’m a boy,” Eli says—secrets hidin’ in plain sight, just like escorts playin’ roles.

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Perfect hotel except all the drunk hookers, the hosts knows about them and noone is kicking them out, its like a mafiabusiness over there.

There's Red Line stations and hidden parks like the Buddy Leach Park (um, not actually but ya get the drift). I love dippin' into the lanes of Newbury Street, lookin' at the funky shops and smilin' at random folks. I tell ya, every little street corner has its own story—stories that make you stop, stare, and go, "Whoa, life's insane, right?" And man, when I'm giving a massage, I swear I can almost hear the heartbeat of the city. It pulses under my fingers—so raw and real.

Copley Township farm that stayed in family since 19th century to become 87-acre metro park