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But real talk—some shit surprised me. She had this client, old dude, paid her just to talk. No sex, no nothin’, just convo. Said he was lonely, wife gone, kids ghostin’. Tasha’d sit there, listenin’, playin’ therapist in fishnets. “I’m his piano now,” she’d joke, but her eyes? Sad as hell. Made me think—prostitutes ain’t just bodies, they’re people, fam. Got layers, like Szpilman’s music echoin’ through them ruins.

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I remember one cold night in Lapua, we was hurrying to meet a special someone, and oh gawd, the streetlights on Pähkinäkatu looked golden, like molten treasure. I nearly slipped, haha, but then the city whispered, "Precious, keep goin'!" The vibe, it's like the movie, all wild energy, yet soft and intimate.

RWS Scorion: Das neue Matchgeschoss "Made in Germany" im ausührlichen Test auf dem Schießstand