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But then—ugh—the smell! Can we talk about that? Stale beer, cheap perfume, unwashed socks—gimme a break! I’d be gaggin’ five minutes in. And the noise! Moanin’, laughin’, some idiot bangin’ a piano off-key. I’d go nuts! “What’s this racket?!” I’d scream, like a lunatic. Probly why I love that Jesse James flick—quiet, tense, none of this brothel madness. “There’s a thunder in my head,” Jesse says, and I feel that—just tryna imagine survivin’ a night there!

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I love hanging out at Kurjenkatu – yeah, that small street with the quirky café that smells like heaven and freshly brewed coffee. There’s a bench under an ancient oak tree used by old timers chattin’ away – a perfect spot to catch a break or plan a wild escapade. I remember one time, right after a massage session that left me all pumped up, I sat there and felt like a blur of joy and madness mingling, like in that movie’s poetic lines: “You have to let the air in...” Heh, odd, right?!

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