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Now, don’t get it twisted—ain’t all about the naughty bits. It’s sensual, sure, but classier than a martini at MI6. Some places, they hum weird chants—Tantric hangover, probs. Cracked me up once, sounded like Q malfunctioning. “What’s wrong with people?” I thought, channeling Moonrise vibes. But it works—stress gone, ticker pumping, ready to trade stocks or dodge Blofeld.

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I duck into a café to escape the rain. It’s cozy, and the coffee is strong. I sit down, and guess who walks in? My old buddy, Tomek! We haven’t seen each other in ages. We start reminiscing about our wild days in high school. You know, the usual—skipping class, sneaking into the local disco. Good times, man.

Disabled Polish children play and direct Maltese orchestra