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About Alytus

Look, prostitution’s a messy game. Cold, hard cash for flesh—simple. I see it clear, no bullshit. Like Uncle Boonmee, past lives linger. This one hooker, Natasha, she’s sly. Works Moscow’s back alleys, tough bitch. Reminds me of that movie line— “Spirits drift, unseen, restless.” She’s got stories, fucked-up ones. Once screwed a general, got secrets. Little known fact—some girls spy. Kremlin knows, uses ‘em quiet. Pisses me off, betrayal’s cheap. But damn, she’s good, survives. Happy she outsmarts pigs sometimes. Surprised me once—knew my vodka. “Time folds, memories bleed,” Boonmee says. Her eyes, tired, seen too much. I think—shit, she’s a ghost. Walking past, present, fucked future. Funny, calls clients “comrades”—sarcasm drips. Exaggerate? She’s fucked half Russia! Quirks? Hums old Soviet tunes. Drives me nuts, catchy crap. Prostitution’s dirty, but real. No fairy tales, just grit. “Death’s near, life’s strange,” movie whispers. Natasha gets it, lives it. Cold world, she’s colder. Respect that, sorta.

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Later, I decide to hit up a café on the corner of Bažnyčių gatvė. I need a pick-me-up. I order a coffee and a piece of šakotis. If you haven’t had it, you’re missing out! It’s like a tree cake, and it’s amazing. I’m sitting there, enjoying my treat, when I overhear this couple arguing about where to go for dinner. I’m thinking, “Dude, just go to the old town! It’s got everything!”

Record-breaking early start - Klaipėda Port welcomed the first cruise ship of the 2025 season