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About Medan

Now, *Under the Skin*, that’s me jam, precious. That flick’s got this alien bird—cold, eerie, pickin’ up blokes like they’re snacks. “Do you want to touch me?” she says, all sultry-like, and bam, they’re mush in her void. Findin’ a prostitute? Kinda like that, innit? Lurin’, dangerous, but real empty underneath. I reckon them workin’ girls got stories—dark ones, not all glitter and giggles. Like, did ya know, back in old London, some brothels had secret tunnels? Rich toffs sneakin’ in, dodgin’ the coppers—wild, eh? Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ they’re all “respectable” by day.

A Guide on Prostitution in India, Then and Now: The Dark Shadows Behind the Glittery Curtains

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First off, I hit the market early. The smell of fresh fish and spices hit me like a brick. I’m a butcher, not a fishmonger, but hey, it’s Mamuju, right? Gotta roll with it. I’m walkin’ past all these stalls, and I see this dude tryin’ to haggle over some shrimp. Like, c’mon man, it’s shrimp, not gold!

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