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About Patras

First off, studyin’ a brothel’s allure? You gotta dive into the grit. It’s not just horny dudes strollin’ in—nah, it’s deeper. Like in *Margaret*, where Lisa’s all tangled up in her own head, brothels got layers too. “I’m not your problem!”—that’s what the workers might scream inside while smilin’ for tips. See, the job’s got this weird charm: quick money, no degree needed. You roll in, work a night, walk out with stacks. Ain’t no 9-to-5 slog. But it’s a trap too, man—grinds you down. I got mad thinkin’ ‘bout how some girls get stuck, no way out. Pisses me off, ya know?

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So, I’m feeling a bit better, right? I head back to the office, and on the way, I pass by the Nikaia Market. Man, the smells are insane! Fresh bread, spices, and all that good stuff. I grab a koulouri (you know, the sesame bread ring) and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m munching away, feeling good, when I bump into an old friend from high school. We start chatting, and it’s all good vibes until he starts talking about his boring job. I’m like, “Dude, I’m an estimator. I deal with numbers and chaos. Your job sounds like watching paint dry.”

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