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About Palermo

Picture this: dim lights, some jazzy tune, hands kneadin’ knots outta yer back. Then it flips – slow strokes, teasin’, yer brain’s screamin’, “What the fuck’s happenin’?” Surprised me, dude, how it’s legal but feels so dirty. Like, “We all go a little mad sometimes” – straight outta the movie, that rush hits hard. Ever hear ‘bout them secret parlors in Japan? “Happy endings” coded in neon – shady but real.

References

First off, I’m late for work. Classic me. I sprint down Via Roma, dodging tourists and their selfie sticks. Like, come on, people! It’s not a runway! I almost trip over a cobblestone. Ugh! My coffee’s sloshing everywhere. I’m like, “Great, just what I need.”