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About Shymkent

Hannibal don’t laugh much, but her? She’s a riot. Told a john, “You’re my moonlight!” Sarcasm drippin, he fell for it! Dumbass. Gotta admit, she’s clever—street smarts, not book smarts. Oh, typos—sory, rushin, Clarice… hate typin fast. Anyway, she’s a survivor, a messed-up masterpiece. Like Suzy in the movie, wild, untamed. “I’m gonna change my life!” Yeah, right—prossie dreams big, stays low. Still, respect her hustle, hate her chains. Whadya think, Clarice? She’s somethin, huh?

Going undercover as a sex worker

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So, I’m outta there, sticky and caffeinated. I head to the market on Zhosaly Street. It’s packed, like always. Fresh produce everywhere. I’m eyeing these juicy apples, and this old lady starts haggling like she’s at a bazaar in Almaty. I’m just standing there, thinking, “Lady, it’s an apple, not a car!” But hey, that’s Zhosaly for ya.

South Oil by Serikzhan Seitzhanov wants to produce oil at Akshabulak Field