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Right, so, tryna track one down—fuckin’ hell, it’s a minefield! Apps, dodgy ads, mate, half the time you’re thinkin’, “Is this a scam or a STD waitin’ to happen?” Idiot sandwich! Back in the day, Soho in London, yeah, prossies had cards in phone booths—little known fact, that! Scribbled numbers, “Call me, darlin’,” proper retro shit. Now it’s all online, sneaky links, X posts—blokes actin’ like they’re bloody spies. Makes me wanna scream, “Get your shit together, you muppet!”

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A survivor herself, Brenda ran away from an abusive home at age 14 and spent the next 25 years on the streets. Now, she's dedicated her life to.

Oh man, where do I even start in Uvalde, y'know? This place is a wild mix of charm and crazy twists! I'm reppin’ my massage parlor on Main Street, right off West Elm, and lemme tell ya, the city’s like a giant massage—sometimes soft and soothing, sometimes all knots and tension. Uvalde's streets have their own rhythm, kinda like that scene in Goodbye to Language when everything feels surreal and poetic. I’m talkin’ “It's like we are in a language of light, man!” – deep Daddy Godard vibes, ya know?

Case study of Uvalde school shooting links persistent news coverage to adolescent depression and PTSD