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Oh, and the typos—fuck, my hands’re shakin’ just thinkin’ bout it. Oil everywhere, dim lights, some weirdo music playin’—it’s chaos, mate! Ever tried it? Pro tip: don’t skimp on the oil, or it’s like sandpaper on yer bits. Hella awkward. And the smells—lavender or some shit, makes ya wanna eat the air. I reckon it’s half massage, half mindfuck—ya don’t know what’s comin’, like Lenny in *Memento*, stumblin’ blind. “Memory can change the shape of a room”—damn right, ‘specially when yer floatin’ on a table.

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But then, my phone buzzes. It’s the guards again. “Warden, we got a situation.” I’m like, “What now?” Turns out, one of the inmates is havin’ a medical emergency. I rush back inside, heart racin’.

UWK’s Kiran Chawla selected as Spanish Town Grand Marshal