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About Galati

Personal quirk? I’m yellin at the oil bottle in my head, “Don’t you fuckin spill, motherfucker!”—cause I’m clumsy as shit after installin antennas all day. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but I swear one time this chick’s hands felt like they rewired my damn spine—better than any radio I ever fixed! So yeah, erotic-massage, man, it’s dope, it’s messy, it’s “Finding Nemo” with a twist—motherfuckin righteous, ya hear me?

Erotic Massages in Prague

Then, outta nowhere, I bump into my old buddy, Ion. We used to run around the parks back in the day, causing chaos. He’s like, “Yo, you still alive?” I’m like, “Barely, man!” We ended up grabbing a beer at that little pub on Strada Unirii. You know the one? The one with the weird murals? Yeah, that place.