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About Karaganda

Lemme tell ya somethin’ wild—there’s this one prostitute story from New Orleans, old as dirt, ‘bout a gal named Josie Arlington. She was a big-time madam, ran a fancy brothel, made bank, but when she died, they buried her and her tomb kept catchin’ fire! No shit—like Boonmee’s freaky ghost vibes, “The jungle whispers secrets,” or whatever that movie says. I’m like, “Holy crap, Josie, you too hot for the grave?” Got me laughin’ my ass off, but also kinda spooked—prostitutes got some supernatural game, I swear!

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After that, I hit up the market on Kairbekov Street. You know, the one with all the fresh produce? I love it there. The colors, the smells, it’s a feast for the senses. I grabbed some apples, and this old lady tried to haggle with me. I was like, “Lady, I’m not buying a car here!” She laughed. I think she liked me.