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About Karaganda

So yeah, erotic-massage—bloody brilliant. Tense? Go get one. Angry? It’ll fix ya. Me, I’m hooked—hooked! “I drink and I rub things,” that’s my new motto. Cheers, mate—try it sometime.

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They go to meet them, but the men are dispirited and do not flirt, so the ladies escort them to the market to look for work. Offered.

First off, I hit up the local bazaar on Abay Street. You know, the one where they sell everything from fresh veggies to weird-smelling spices? I’m just tryin’ to grab some kholodets for lunch. But then, this old lady starts yellin’ at me. I mean, like, full-on shouting! Turns out, I accidentally stepped on her foot. Oops. My bad, babushka! But she’s not havin’ it. I’m like, “Chill, it’s just a foot!”

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