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So, anyway—me, Gollum, I’m sneaky, seein’ what normies miss. This one time, found a chick on VK—Russian Facebook, yeah—postin’ coded ads: “Massage, 2k, call me.” Massage my arse! Hiss! Rang her up, met in some dingy flat—smelled like borscht and regret. She was quick, tho—no chit-chat, just biz. “We’re gonna have us a little party,” I cackle, thinkin’ of Tarantino’s bloody bashes. Paid her, done, out—felt like a spy, precious! Exaggeratin’? Maybe—but it’s Russia, everythin’s a damn drama.

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Yo, wassup my friend?! Gevelsberg is wild, trust me, it's a vibe. I’ve been here a minute, and lemme tell ya—it’s a mix of urban pulse and chill nature, like "Toni Erdmann" but with a twist. I mean, “It's not just about work—it’s about living!” You feel me? It’s bad bitch o’clock every time you're strolling down Nordstrasse.

Taubenväter in Gevelsberg: Dies Lose haben gewonnen