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Den—oh, dis got me ragin’—some pimp tried musclin’ in, all “Pay me first, ugly!” Ugly? Me? I’d snap his neck, but nah, too messy. Shoved him off, grabbed da gal, we bolted. *Under the Skin* moment—“This isn’t what it seems”—she’s gigglin’, I’m thinkin’, “Is she a trap?” Dat flick messes wid ya head, mate! We duck into some dive, she’s all flirty, I’m countin’ coins—exaggeratin’ here, I’m broke as hell, ha!

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Oh, my friend, you gotta check out Gagarina Avenue, a bustling splash of life, where local legends spill like water from a trickling stream. I still remember my heart pounding when I saw the quaint little café by the river Svyatoy—my precious spot for soul talks and quiet smiles. “Ten,” that quirky film, haunts me here— “All those secrets, yes, my precious!” I whisper, channeling that raspy Gollum voice, as I sip my brew and remember those drifting moments in that film when everything was dark yet hopeful.

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