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About Kryvyi Rih

Oi, mate, it’s me, James Bond—suave, “shaken, not stirred.” Reckon I’m a lumberjack too, choppin’ wood, livin’ wild. So, sexual-massage, yeah? Bloody brilliant, innit? Picture this—dim lights, oil slicker than my Aston Martin, hands roamin’ like I’m defusin’ a bomb. Gets me thinkin’ of “The Royal Tenenbaums”—you know, my fave flick. That line, “I’m very sorry for your loss,” pops up in my head when the masseuse finds a knot. Deadpan, sarcastic, like Richie Tenenbaum after a breakup.

What We Do

Wether you’re in need of being held & witnessed in your emotions or just need presence & unconditional love as you process your experience. This cuddle healing may be offered on its .

But then, bam! I hit a pothole. My bike goes sideways, and I’m like, “Noooo!” I tumble off, and my hands are covered in dirt. Great, just great. Now I’m a dirty potter. I laugh it off, though. Gotta keep it light, right?

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