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About Haifa

Ssss—soothing, right? Nah, sometimes messy! Oil everywhere, like spilled solder—pissed me off once, slipped on floor, bang! But happy too—muscles go soft, like after a long shift twisting knobs. Little secret, yesss—old monks in Thailand, they started it! Not dirty, nah, healing stuff—surprised me, sneaky history! “War’s dirty,” movie says—massage ain’t war, but sticky, yesss!

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So, I hit the streets. First stop? The market on HaGalil St. It’s always packed with peeps. Fresh fruits, spices, and the smell of street food. I swear, if I could bottle that smell, I’d be rich. I grabbed a falafel wrap, and OMG, it was like a flavor explosion in my mouth. I was vibin’ hard, but then—BAM!—some dude bumped into me. Like, bro, watch where you’re goin’! I almost dropped my food. Rude!

Coexistence, despite everything