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About Poznan

Oi, you donkey! Brothel, yeah? Filthy little shithole, innit? Makes me wanna scream, “You’re a disgrace!” Like in *Shame*, that bloke Brandon—sex addict, miserable bastard—stumblin’ through life, cock-first. Brothels are like that, mate. Dark, sticky corners, reeks of desperation. “I’m not here to judge,” my arse! You walk in, it’s a fuckin’ parade of sad sods and broken dreams. Smells like cheap perfume and regret—fuckin’ hell, it’s grim.

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I head over, and wow, it’s a vibe! Food trucks everywhere. I’m talking burgers, tacos, and even pierogi! I grab a plate of those delicious dumplings, and I’m in heaven again. I see Kasia, and we start laughing about the day. She’s like, “You look like you’ve been through a war!” I can’t help but laugh.

Poison-laced sausages kill dogs in northern Poland