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“Tabu” vibes hit hard—“memory is a ghost,” right? Brothels got ghosts, man—stories nobody tells. Like, 1800s San Fran, Chinese girls shipped in, locked up, worked ‘til they dropped. Fucked up! But then, flip it—some madams, total bosses, stackin’ cash, dodgin’ cops. Respect! I’m over here, laughin’—imagine me, warden, bustin’ in, “WHO’S GOT THE WHISKEY?!” Chaos, baby!

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So, I’m walking, and I see this cute little café called “Dostyk.” I’m like, “Perfect! Coffee time!” I order a cup, and the barista, this super friendly dude, starts chatting me up. He’s telling me about the local spots, and I’m just nodding, trying to keep up. He mentions the Bulayevo Museum, and I’m like, “Museum? In this town?” Turns out, it’s got some cool stuff about the region’s history. Who knew?