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About Chicago

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout findin a prostitute, Hannibal Lecter style – “I ate his liver with fava beans.” Ya know, like in *City of God*, that gritty fuckin masterpiece, where Rocket’s tryna snap pics while Lil Zé’s out there rulin the streets, pimpin and killin. Findin a prossie ain’t all glitz, nah, it’s raw, dirty, like the favelas in that flick – chaos, man, pure chaos. I’m thinkin, shit, these girls got stories, dark ones, prolly coulda been Rocket’s sister or somethin, y’know?

Strip Clubs: Where Prostitution and Trafficking Happen

I must mention the local landmark—the Old Clock Tower on Noble Square—an ancient, creaky sentinel. Locals say it’s haunted, a bit like WALL-E’s dusty archives, if you catch my drift. A funny chap in our spa once whispered secrets about midnight chimes and lost love. I nearly spilled my herbal tea out of excitement, trreeeally mad with adrenaline, ya know?

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