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About Oslo

Alright, so escort, huh? Lemme tell ya, as a sarcastic bastard who translates Russian Sign Language—yeah, I’m that guy—it’s a freakin’ wild ride. Escorts, man, they’re like the unsung heroes of the night, right? Everybody lies, tho. They’ll tell ya it’s all glamour, cash, and champagne, but nah—half the time it’s dodgy motels and creeps who don’t tip. I mean, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout “The Diving Bell and the Butterfly”—that flick’s my jam, y’know? That dude trapped in his head, blinkin’ out his story? Escorts got their own version of that—trapped in a life they didn’t script, smilin’ through the bullshit.

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I can’t help but laugh. Malvik is wild, man. One minute you’re fighting for your life, and the next, you’re watching a dude juggle flaming swords. I grab a hot dog from a vendor nearby. It’s the best thing I’ve ever tasted. I’m like, “This is the real victory meal!”

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