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About San Diego

But it’s tricky, precious, so tricky! Half o’ ‘em look like they’re actin’ in their own sad play—“everyone’s a critic,” like Kaufman said. I’m thinkin’, shit, am I the audience or the bloody fool here? Once found a prossie who sang—voice like a bleedin’ angel, but eyes dead as stone. Broke me heart, that. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d claw the moon down fer her, I would! Still, most times it’s just hagglin’—ten quid, twenty, whatever scraps I got. “The play’s the thing,” I hiss, cos it’s all a game, innit?

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Supporting Sex Workers since Missing: prostitute.

Now, don't get me started on the neighborhoods! Gritty West End has its own charm. I once got caught up in a local festival on Birch Ave—loud music, spicy food, and laughter everywhere, makin’ a masseur like meself feel right at home, kneading knots while takin’ in the local rhythms. I left that day with the satisfaction of a well-mended back and a heart full of joy, though nearly missin' me appointment later on!

Flood risk continues to rise in Greater Sudbury