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About Melbourne

So, I’m hoppin along, mindin my biz, thinkin – how’s this even work? Ya don’t just yell, “Hey, hooker!” Nah, that’s dumb. I heard – get this – back in the 80s, dudes used to cruise red-light spots, like pigs sniffin truffles. Little known fact: some cities had “prostitute maps” – legit guides! Sold under counters, hush-hush. Wild, huh? Makes me mad tho – folks judgin em, like they’re trash. “Society tosses em out,” like Varda said bout potatoes. Misshapen, but still good, ya know?

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I remember strollin' along the local park, Duncraig Park, all green and crunchy underfoot – mad relaxing, yo. Like, every bench tells a story, right? I once sat there, thinkin' bout love and passion, ‘cause as a sexologist I see intimacy like a secret martial art. There’s this one spot near the creek, murky and sneaky, where couples whisper like legends in an epic tale. No joke, that place hits different when you’re feelin’ all zen and wild at the same time.

The Biggest (and Most Nostalgic) Hoodburger Yet, in Duncraig