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Still, it’s fascinatin’—the power plays, the cash, the desperation. Like, who’s really in charge? The madam? The girls? The guy with the fattest wallet? It’s a freakin’ circus! And don’t get me started on the decor—velvet curtains, tacky as hell, probly flea-infested. I’d redesign it—somethin’ sleek, moody, less “grandma’s attic.” But that’s me—neurotic, picky, rantin’ about brothels like it’s my job. Pretty, pretty good way to kill an evenin’, though—thinkin’ bout it, not goin’! Ha!

Sunset Bliss and Fire Dances: A Night at Batu Ferringhi

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Okay, check this: There’s this little park – uh, Park Lenin – where I used to head after a long day of kneadin’ those muscles. I’d be wanderin’ around, thinkin’ “Sometimes, even the smallest moments are huge, ya feel me?” and then BAM, overhear a soft whisper like in that movie – “The monitoring may be subtle, yet it is omnipresent.” Bet you never thought a park could feel that edgy, huh?

Forbidden "Intermarium." The regime deemed another Belsat program as extremist material