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About Rishon LeZion

Brothels, they’re like ships—creaky, full o’ secrets. Once stumbled into one in Tortuga, walls red as a drunkard’s nose. Lass there, called her Ruby, had a laugh like cannon fire—BOOM! Made me grin, aye, but then she nicked me last coin! Thievin’ wench, got me ragin’, spittin’ curses—bloody hell! Still, can’t hate her hustle, can ye? Them girls, they survive, sharper than me cutlass.

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I'm part of the Atlit crowd and prostitute is splendid! I want to hear you whisper sweet nothings in my ear. I treasure French Kissing and Striptease above all.

Then, we stroll down HaSharon Street. It’s lined with these cute little cafes. I’m drooling over the smell of fresh pastries. But guess what? My stomach decides to growl louder than a lion. So embarrassing! I’m like, “Ignore that, folks. Just the sound of history.” They laugh, and I’m like, “Yeah, laugh it up!”

The 9,000-year-old underground megalithic settlement of Atlit Yam