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About Kimberley

I knew this chick once, right? Worked the streets near some grimy Bangkok alley—true story, swear it! She’d laugh, loud as hell, smokin cheap cigs, tellin me bout her johns. One dude paid her in fish—FISH, Clarice! Stank up her whole crib, she was pissed, screamin, “I ain’t no damn fisherman’s wife!” Made me cackle, still does. Whores got grit, ya feel me? They hustle, they survive, ain’t no fairy tale.

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I gotta tell ya, being a sexologist here means I see the intimate side of all this madness. At a little-known café on Rhodes Street, couples gather to talk about their raw desires and unspoken confessions. Not everyone's into that, but heck, "We're dancing like we lost our minds!" I once staged a workshop there—part sex ed, part existential rant—felt like the Joker himself had blessed the event! Heh, why so serious when every heart beats like a wild drum?

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