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About Rumelange

But—grrr—some crap pisses me off! These shady pimps, lurkin’ like Gestapo, watchin’ every move. One tried shakin’ me down—extra 1,000 rubles “protection fee.” Protection? Ha! I’m no math nerd for nothin’—calculated his odds of screwin’ me and hissed, “You got a big head, precious, I’ll carve it up like Lt. Aldo carves swastikas!” He backed off—coward! Surprised me, tho—thought he’d fight dirtier. Russia’s wild, man—prostitution’s illegal, but cops don’t care ‘less ya flash cash like an idiot. Fun fact—back in Soviet days, they called ‘em “night butterflies.” Poetic, huh? Now it’s just “devochki”—girls. Gritty, raw, real.

Places to see

Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, like, monsoon-level rain. I’m soaked in seconds. I’m standing there, under some random awning on Rue de la Liberté, thinking, “Why me?” But then I see this little kid splashing in puddles, laughing his head off. And I’m like, “Okay, maybe life ain’t so bad.” Kids have a way of making ya smile, right?

Emergency services: Driver suffered light injuries despite dramatic accident