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About Holon

Oh, quirky fact—medieval times, brothels had signs! Red lanterns—hence “red light,” ya dig? Cool, right? Exaggeratin’ now—imagine me, green lil’ Yoda, hagglin’ with a hooker! “Ten credits, hmm? Too much, it is!” Humor’s my shield, man—find a prostitute ain’t no picnic. Stay sharp, fear’s a bitch.

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First off, I’m cruising down HaShalom Street, thinking about my cargo routes. You know, the usual stuff. But then, BAM! Traffic jam outta nowhere. Like, come on! It’s not even rush hour! I’m stuck behind this ancient bus that’s probably older than my grandma. I swear, it was coughing like it was about to die. I’m just sitting there, tapping my fingers on the steering wheel, thinking, “Great, just great.”