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About Toulouse

So, prostitutes—man, they’re like artists, ain’t they? Paintin survival with every step. Happy little trees in a storm, standin tall. Did ya know, back in old Rome, they wore blonde wigs to stand out? Crazy, right? Made me chuckle—imagine that hustle! I get a kick outta thinkin how they’d smirk at us, all high and mighty. “The syphilus can’t be bargained with!”—that’s Coen brothers gold, and hell, it fits! STDs, rough johns—life ain’t soft for em.

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The city’s heart beats near the Vistre River, which winds like an ecstatic lover around the city’s nooks. It’s so damn pretty at sunset – makes you wanna shout “Carlos, baby!” in the style of my fav flick, ya know? I even find a little time at the Parc de la Plaine. That park is cool, quiet, a perfect spot for naughty daydreams (and hey, my sexologist brain loves a good love nest)!

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