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About Puntarenas

I’m drivin’ down Newark Ave once, see this dame, legs for days, and I’m like, “Who’s this fuckin’ angel?” Reminds me of that movie line, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” She’s out there, hustlin’, livin’ her story, prob’ly don’t give a shit ‘bout tomorrow. That’s the draw—livin’ raw, no filter. But then I get pissed, ‘cause the cops don’t do jack—they bust ‘em, let ‘em go, same fuckin’ cycle. Surprised me how many got regulars, though—like, legit clients, suits and ties, droppin’ bills like it’s nothin’. One girl, swear, had a judge on speed dial—fuckin’ hilarious, right? Gabagool? Ova here!

A legal activity, but know the limits!

Have been here for a week and already accumulated a nice roster of local beauties that dont hook and also some other connections that make the.

I gotta say, tho – not everything's sunshine. Some parts of the city, like that super busy strip in the center, vecin’ around La Gran Feria, can make you mad with all the noise and rush. “Ruh-roh!” I get that, like when life gets too heavy… But then, every mad moment flips to a happy moment when you stumble on a quiet coffee spot hidden in an alley near Calle Loma Alta – pure bliss, dude.

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