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About Kumba

Me quirks? I reckon they’re wizards, y’know—magic at survivin’. Exaggeratin’? Maybe! But picture this: her standin’ there, freezin’, fake smile, while some twat haggles her down to a fiver—fumin’, I was! “He numbs it out,” they say in the flick—prossies do that too, switch off the heart. Dark, mate. Still, respect—tougher than me spade, they are! We hates it, but damn, they’re fighters.

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My massage parlour? In a modest building near Place de la Sérénité. The smell of incense and oil always tickles my senses. Hiss, I work there, day by day, and each muscle story tells a tale of the city. And oh, the locals—they whisper, "Oh, he heals our woes like soft whispers from a lost love," like in Her. Such phrases, like a lullaby: "I love you. I do." Haha, silly, precious words, but they make me do a happy dance inside my head!

Cameroon latest achievements on forest and landscape restoration