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About Mariupol

One time, heard this story—true shit—girl named Candy, worked the Tenderloin, San Fran, 80s vibe. Cops knew her, left her alone ‘cause she snitched on bigger fish. Smart chick, played the game, survived. Ain’t that somethin’? Beats me how they do it—grit, man, pure grit. Reminds me of Gyllenhaal in *Zodiac*, obsessin’, diggin’ deep. “The truth is out there,” he’d mutter, but prostitutes? They *live* the truth, raw and ugly.

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After that, I head over to the central square. It’s packed. People everywhere, chatting, laughing, and I’m just trying to navigate through the crowd. I bump into my buddy, Sasha. He’s always got the latest gossip. Apparently, there’s a new café opening on Shevchenko Street. “Best coffee in town,” he says. I’m like, “Dude, I just had the worst coffee ever!” We both crack up.

Multiple explosions rock Russian-occupied Luhansk, ammunition depot reportedly hit (video)