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About Patras

So, picture this: dusty joint, red lights flickerin’, smells like cheap perfume and regret. Kinda like that scene where Shu Lien’s all, “I’d rather roam than be caged!”—but here, the cage is velvet curtains and creaky beds. I’m sittin’ here thinkin’, who chooses this gig? Some girls, they’re fightin’ their own battles, swords invisible, ya know? Makes me mad—pisses me off, actually—that life shoves ‘em there. But then, some own it, struttin’ like Jen Yu, all “I’m free, bitches!” That’s the kicker—choice, or no choice?

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Finally, I decide to call it a day. I’m walking back home, soaked and slightly annoyed. But then I pass by this little bookstore on Agiou Georgiou Street. I can’t resist. I pop in, and it’s like stepping into another world. The smell of old books hits me, and I’m instantly calmed. I grab a random novel, and the owner, this sweet old lady, gives me a discount just for being a local.

Assyrian Genocide Monument Unveiled in Athens