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About Astana

So, picture this—me, half-pissed on wine, stumblin’ into a brothel. This lass, she’s got eyes like daggers, sharp enough to gut ya. She’s a prozzie, been at it forever, prob’ly. I ask her name—Rose, she says, but who knows? They all lie, don’t they? “Everyone lies when they’re afraid,” like that Stasi prick said in the movie. She’s afraid, I reckon—afraid of me judgin’ her, or worse, not payin’.

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Unang Panid; Tubaan; Mga bag-ong giusab; Bisan unsang panid; Tabang; Espesyal nga mga panid.

So, I roll outta bed, right? It’s like 6 AM, and I’m already dreading the day. I mean, who wants to deal with bones before coffee? Not me! I live on Kirova Street, and lemme tell ya, it’s a circus out here. The roosters are louder than my alarm.