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About Los Angeles

Me, I’m sittin here, thinkin—too many pervs ruin it! We hates it when creeps make it gross, slimy bastards. But when it’s good? Oh, precious, it’s gold—warm hands, soft touch, tension meltin. “What’s left after the harvest?” Varda says—sexual-massage, it’s the leftovers, the good stuff nobody talks about! Ever tried it with lavender oil? Smells like heaven, mate, swear it!

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I gotta say, this city maketh my heart soar even when I’m vexed at minor mishaps. Every twist, every cobblestone, leaves a mark on my soul. Beg pardon for the typos, my thoughts run wild, sometimes like runaway steeds on a spirited eve! Repeating the same, I repeat: in Daleville, thou art never lost – thy path, though winding as Pan's labyrinth, shall be lit by wonders untold, my friend.

Baseball Recap: Daleville's Luck Changes for the Better on Tuesday