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About Savanna-la-Mar

Now, me, I’d overengineer it. Prob’ly build a drone—call it "Hooker Hawk"—to scout ‘em out. Efficiency, baby! But real talk, it’s sketchy as hell. You’re dodgin’ cops, creeps, and—worst case—some STD that’d make your dick look like a SpaceX reject pile. Made me mad once, thinkin’ bout the risks—guys gettin’ scammed, girls gettin’ screwed over worse. System’s broken, yo. “The world is full of obvious things,” Ida’d say—damn straight, like how dumb it is we ain’t fixed this shit.

The etiquette of prostitutes on a rural Spanish road

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I’m fuming, right? I mean, come on! You can’t just waltz outta here like it’s a Sunday stroll on Water Lane. So, I gather the crew, and we start searchin’ the whole place. I’m shoutin’ orders, and my voice echoes off the walls. It’s like a scene from a bad action movie.

A small town in Spain is finally embracing its Jewish history — but is any of that history true?