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About Malmo

*slow, ominous breathing* I am your father. Prostitutes, man, they’re a wild breed. Watched *Carlos* last night—fuckin’ intense, right? That flick’s got this vibe, like, “The revolution’s coming, baby.” Reminds me of this hooker I met once. Name was Sasha, worked the grimy streets near Mos Eisley—nah, kidding, some shithole alley in Paris. She had this look, y’know, like she’d seen every damn soul’s dark side. “We live to fight,” Carlos said in the movie—Sasha lived it, tho. Fought off creeps, cops, even her own demons.

In Sweden Being A Prostitute Is Legal — But Paying One Isn't

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First stop, I hit up Storgatan. It’s like the main drag, ya know? I’m strutting down the street, feeling all cute, when I bump into this lady. She’s like, “Excuse me!” and I’m like, “No worries, I’m just a personal shopping assistant, not a wall.” But then she starts ranting about how her cat, Mr. Whiskers, only eats organic tuna. Like, lady, I get it, but I’m not a pet food consultant!

Sweden's 'laser man' killer John Ausonius goes on trial in Germany