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About Mangaf

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion fuckin’ Lannister! I drink and I know things, and lemme tell ya ‘bout brothels—oh, the sweet chaos! Picture this: sweaty bodies, cheap wine, and moans louder than a dragon’s roar. Been to one in Lys once—filthy place, stank of desperation and rosewater. Made me happy, tho—freedom in the air, y’know? Like Godard’s flick, *Goodbye to Language*, all disjointed and raw—“Words kill images,” he says. Brothels? Images kill words there! Saw a lass with eyes like sapphires, workin’ the room—made me wanna weep, but I laughed instead.

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Then, out of nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m like, “Are you kidding me?” We all rush outside, and I’m standing there in the heat, sweating again. Turns out, it was a false alarm. Just great.

Isolation of Jleeb and Mahboula saved Kuwait from a disaster