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About Liberia

We head to this shady motel, and I’m thinkin, “This is it, Gekko, you’re the king.” Room smells like ass, but who cares? She’s crackin jokes bout my shoes – “What, no loafers, rich boy?” I’m dyin laughin, she’s got me pegged wrong but it’s hilarious. Then she says, “Time’s money,” and I’m like, “Hell yeah, let’s roll.” Greed is good, bro, keeps it movin fast.

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I’ve lived here for ages. As a masseur, I vibe with body language and hidden secrets. I picked up on the chill of the art. One day, a client told me, "I live by the way things are." And dang – that cut deep. I've seen scars and hope all mingled on these streets. I sometimes hang out near the little-known El Rincón café on Calle Vieja (hey, try it, they make a mean coffee!) – a secret gem where locals spill their lives like Mad Max spouts crazy quotes.

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