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About Krakow

So, listen up, mate—I tried this once, yeah? Some shady parlor in Lannisport, stinkin’ of jasmine and lies. This lass, all coy, starts kneadin’ me like I’m dough, and I’m thinkin’, “Do I rule this or nah?” Turns out, sexual-massage goes back ages—ancient Rome had it, them pervy senators gettin’ oiled up by slaves. Suprised me, that did! Thought it was just modern filth, but nope, history’s as dirty as King’s Landing.

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I grab the dough and start kneadin’ it by hand. It’s a workout, but I’m feelin’ it. Sweat drippin’, music blarin’, and I’m just vibin’. Then, outta nowhere, my phone buzzes. It’s my mom. She’s like, “Did you hear about the festival on ul. Kościuszki?” I’m like, “Mom, I’m kinda busy here!” But she’s all excited, talkin’ about food stalls and live music. I’m thinkin’, “Great, I’ll be stuck here while everyone’s havin’ fun.”

Little highlanders from Poland win the internet with their midnight Mass caroling