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About Donetsk

Yo, so escort shit, right? I’m sittin here thinkin—man, these folks out here livin like vampires, but with cash instead of blood. Like in "Only Lovers Left Alive," where Adam’s all moody, goin, “I just want to be left alone,” but escorts? They’re out here grindin, makin bank off lonely suckers. Ain’t no solitude in that game, fam! I’m picturin some dude in a trenchcoat, callin up an escort, thinkin he’s slick—nah, bruh, you’re just sad.

First off, I hit up the local café on Shevchenka Street. Best coffee in town, no cap. I order my usual – a double shot of espresso. The barista, this dude named Oleg, spills half of it on the counter. I’m like, “Bro, I need that caffeine!” He just laughs and says, “More for you next time!” I’m thinkin’, “Dude, I’m not coming back if you keep this up!”

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