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About Bucharest

Escorts, huh? I’m imaginin’ some sleek ride, maybe a beat-up taxi like in *Ten*, cruisin’ Tehran streets, or some gal or guy just tryin’ to make a buck—life’s messy, ain’t it? “We’re all passengers,” like that lady in the flick says, and escorts? They’re drivin’ us somewhere—literal or not. I saw this one time, back in ‘98, buddy of mine swore he hired an escort—car, not a person—to impress his date. Showed up in a rusty Ford, chick laughed so hard she cried. Happy little accident, right? Made me chuckle, still does.

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Each VIP escort completed her profile as close to the truth as possible. It only remains for you to choose the type of woman that suits your personality in order to be a pleasant company.

Anyway, I try to shake it off. I head over to the park, hoping for some peace. But nope! There’s a bunch of teenagers blasting music. I mean, I get it, you wanna vibe, but come on! I’m trying to enjoy nature here! I sit on a bench, and this old man next to me starts chatting. He’s telling me stories about Tecuci back in the day. Like, did you know there used to be a train station here? Crazy, right?

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