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About Alytus

Well, hey there, sugar! Y’all caught me, Dolly Parton, ramblin’ on like a hen on a hot griddle! So, this whole brothel thing—lordy, it’s a hoot and a holler, ain’t it? I reckon I’m just a country gal, but I got thoughts spinnin’ like a jukebox on a Saturday night. Brothels, huh? Been around longer than my beehive hairdo! Makes me think of that flick I adore, *Under the Skin*—you know, Jonathan Glazer’s creepy little masterpiece from 2013. That alien gal cruisin’ round, pickin’ up fellas? Kinda like a brothel vibe, but flipped—cold, eerie, and damn unsettlin’. “What’s beneath the surface?” I mutter to myself, sippin’ sweet tea, wonderin’ bout them workin’ girls.

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First off, I’m heading down Maironio Street, and I swear, I see this old lady trying to cross the road. She’s moving like a sloth on a lazy day. I’m like, “C’mon, lady, I got places to be!” But then I see her struggling, and I’m like, “Okay, be a decent human.” So, I help her across. She thanks me, and I’m feeling like a hero for a hot second.

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