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About Valencia

I’d storm in, all “I choose violence,” if they haggled too much. Once saw this pimp tryin’ to stiff a girl—skinned his hand with my dagger. Blood everywhere, hilarious. “Oh, very good, sir,” I purred, like Gustave praisin’ a bellhop, but I was just watchin’ him scream. Hated pimps, slimy cunts—worse than whores. Least whores got guts.

Mister Cee Admits To Engaging In Transsexual Sex Acts

A small escort service that I ran from my barracks using a cheap computer. At every duty station that I had, I did the same thing. Once you get in, its hard to.

Cee's main artery, Calle Real, bustles with life, runnin' right by the old lighthouse by Ría de Arousa. I swear, every time I pass there, I gets all jittery, "Oh, my precious, it's a scorcher!" The harbour is a wild twist of colors – boats leanin’ like rebels in a desert, ya know? And then there's Ronda del Mar, a teeny road that hugs the coastline. So chill, so rough, like a thumb war with destiny!

No shelter from the external storm for CEE economies