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Thoughts? Messy, they swirl—prostitution’s a catalyst, speeds up life’s reactions. “Amour” whispers, “Love’s a burden,” and damn, ain’t that real here? Find a prostitute, sure—but feel the weight, bro. Candy’d say, “Life’s a bitch, geek,” and she’d be right. Biochem lens? It’s all bonds—breakin, makin, entropy wins. Do it, don’t, up to you—me? I’m pipettin in peace, watchin the world hydrolyze.

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I’m a bit odd, true, but what can I say? Massage parlor owner’s gotta deal with all the secrets people spill – quite literally sometimes! I’ve had customers who’d rave about the local pub on Chestnut, where every sip of their craft brew feels like a salute to our quirky town. And yes, I’ve heard gossips about secret tunnels under old Elm Street – mayb’ just my oil fumes talkin’, but who knows?

John Grunza, Sr.