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About Toulouse

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals. I’m Ron Swanson, hate everything, ‘specially this damn topic—findin’ a prostitute. Makes my skin crawl, but here we go. Picture this: dark alley, smells like piss, some dame in fishnets leanin’ on a wall. Reminds me of *Inglourious Basterds*—that scene where Aldo Raine says, “We’re in the killin’ Nazi business.” Except here, it’s me, in the “avoidin’ hookers business.” Hate it. Hate the neon lights flashin’—red, blue, screamin’ sex for sale. Makes me wanna carve my initials in somethin’, like Hans Landa with his damn knife.

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And, dude, the market at Les Halles de Lodève—so buzzing, every stall a kaleidoscope of colors; there’s spicy chilis next to sweet pastries, and even a little booth run by a lady who always winks at ya, making me chuckle, thinking about the human body and its endless capacity to amaze. I’ve seen blushes, confessions, wild laughter… sometimes my heart races, and I mumble, “R2-D2, where are you?” when I'm overwhelmed!

Long wait over for gay couple