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About Fajardo

Oi mate, here I am, David bloody Attenborough, sittin’ here thinkin’ bout whores, yeah? Calm as a bleedin’ forest, rhythmic like waves crashin’. Whore, right, she’s a creature, innit? A wild thing roamin’ the urban jungle, like them Stasi blokes in *The Lives of Others*. “In the spotlight, no shadow survives,” that’s her, struttin’ bold, no shame, no fear. Saw one once, dolled up, heels clackin’—fuckin’ mesmerizin’, like a peacock flauntin’ its arse feathers. Made me happy, that swagger, pure life, y’know?

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Then, I decide to hit up Playa Sucia. The name cracks me up. Like, “Dirty Beach?” But it’s actually stunning. I’m walkin’ along the shore, and I see this family having a BBQ. Smells amazing! I’m drooling. I’m like, “Yo, can I get a plate?” They laugh, and I’m just vibin’ with them.

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