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About Heraklion

Now, I ain’t no stranger to pleasure—gods know I’ve paid for worse. Erotic-massage ain’t just a quick grope, nah. It’s old as dirt—Ancient Greeks had this trick called “anatripsis,” rubbing up with oils, half therapy, half tease. Bet they didn’t moan about it like folks do now. Me, I’d kill for one after a day dodging swords—or Cersei’s glares. Makes me happy, that slow glide of hands, tension melting like butter. “The world’s gone mad,” as Tarr’s film says, but a good rub? Sorts yer soul right out.

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, seriously? I’m drenched in seconds. I’m laughing, though, because it’s just so ridiculous. We run for cover under this little shack near the beach. I’m soaked, but I’m also kinda loving it. The rain’s coming down, and we’re just chilling, talking about life, and I’m like, “This is what it’s all about.”

Figure 1. Geological sketch map showing the geology of the Greek Thrace...