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About Villach

So, last week, I’m prowlin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.”—and I spot this bird, all fishnets and attitude. Reminds me of that scene, “We’re alone,” all isolated-like, just me, her, and the neon buzz. I’m thinkin’, “Mate, she’s either a jackpot or a fuckin’ setup.” Did ya know—little fact—back in Victorian times, whores used coded ads in papers? “French lessons,” my arse—sneaky bastards. Anyway, I’m chattin’ her up, heart poundin’—fuckin’ thrilled, yeah? But then—bam—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, demandin’ cash. Pissed me right off! I’m like, “Oi, cunt, I ain’t your ATM!”

Inside the world of Dhaka sex workers

I even have a secret spot near the old mill on Seebach Street. Here, you almost feel like you’re in a trippy moment – earth, water, sky, all in sync like a scene from "Inherent Vice" where everything's all mellow and mind-blowin’. Sometimes I sit there, thinkin’ “Man, nature is my muse, slay everything!” and forget about all the stress.

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