With its endless capital and battalion of stars, Hollywood habitually eclipses everything else and leaves North American cineplexes turgid with stale super-hero flicks, listless comedies, and their sequels.
Through the heart of Miami's Little Havana, SW 8th street unfolds--a paved corridor narrowed by a strip of the twenty-odd pay-by-the-hour motels stacked side by side. Fortress-like with their high walls and discrete private entrances, these motels are the ideal locale for a clandestine encounter.
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