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About Bayamon

You ever hear ‘bout Victorian brothels? They had secret codes—red curtains meant “busy,” green was “open.” Sneaky, yo! I’m laughin’, picturin’ some stiff-ass lord knockin’, all nervous. Brothel’s a movie itself, Pan’s Labyrinth with no fairies—just real shit. Love it, hate it, can’t look away. What you think, fam? It’s chaos, pure Kanye chaos!

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s another claim. I groan. “Not again!” I’m thinking. I gotta head to Calle de la Playa. This time, it’s a guy claiming his boat sank. I get there, and he’s all dramatic, waving his hands. “It was a freak accident!” he says. I’m like, “Dude, you parked it in a storm. What did you expect?”

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