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About Netanya

So, what’s the deal? It’s hands slidin, oil drippin, skin tinglin—proper intimate, yeah? Little known fact—ancient Greeks were mad for it, called it “body worship,” reckon it kept their philosophers chill. Me, I’m no Plato, but I get it—feels like stars alignin in yer spine. Got me first one years back—lass named Tara, hands like a bloody angel, nearly cried I did. Made me happy as a pig in mud, swear it—anger just melted off, no more ragin at the world.

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When I get there, my buddy’s late. Classic! I’m standing outside, and this group of teenagers walks by, blasting music. I’m like, “What is this, a concert?” They’re all vibing, and I’m just standing there like a lost puppy. Finally, my buddy shows up, and he’s got popcorn. I’m like, “Dude, you’re my hero!”

The story of Dareen Tatour is the story of Falasteen