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About Mariupol

Her life, tho? Messy as hell. “I’ve seen too many dawns,” she’d say, quotin’ Jep without even knowin’ it. Worked doubles, dodged cops, had a kid stashed with her mom. Surprised me how she kept smilin’—tougher than a $2 steak, that one. Funniest shit? She’d prank her regulars—fake accents, wild stories, once told a dude she was a Russian spy. Had him shakin’ in his boots, handin’ over extra just to “keep her quiet.” Savage! Raised eyebrow, “Know your role.” I respeck that hustle—takes balls to play the game that hard.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Hrushevskoho Street. You know, the one with the best coffee? I’m all set for my morning caffeine fix. But guess what? They ran outta coffee beans! Like, how does that even happen? I mean, c’mon, it’s a coffee shop! So, I settled for some weird herbal tea. Ugh, it tasted like grass. Not the best start, ya know?

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