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Now, lemme tell ya, I stumbled on this joint once—hidden spot, neon sign flickerin’ like a damn secret. This chick, she’s workin’ my shoulders, and I’m like, “Lordy, this ain’t no regular knead!” She’s got skills, playin’ my spine like strings, and I’m half-expecting her to quote *The Act of Killing*—y’know, “To live with death, you gotta feel alive.” Hell, I felt alive, fam! Muscles singin’, blood pumpin’, and I’m thinkin’, “This is some next-level shit.” Made me happy as a kid with candy—pure bliss, no cap.

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So, I’m like, “Whatever, it’s just coffee.” I head over to the market on Kostiantynivska Street. Man, the hustle there is unreal! Vendors shouting, people bargaining. I love it! I grab some fresh borscht ingredients. Gotta support local, ya know? But then, this old lady starts yelling at me. Apparently, I was in her way. I’m like, “Chill, babushka! I’m just trying to buy beets!”

Explosion near occupied Svatove kills occupiers from Russia’s Buryatia