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About Phoenix

So, listen, mate—hiss!—I dig around, right? Moscow’s got these shadowy corners—Arbat’s too posh, but Kitay-gorod? Oof, goldmine! Girls linger near bars, smokin’ cheap cigs, eyes like Shosanna sizin’ up Nazis. “What’s your price, precious?” I mutter, all sly. One gal—Lena, maybe?—says 5,000 rubles, hour tops. Bargain, yeah? But I’m thinkin’, “That’s a bear trap, Gollum, she’s robbin’ ya blind!” Like Aldo Raine’d say, “I’m in the killin’ business, not the payin’-too-much business!” Haggled her down—3,500, boom! Felt like a king, I did—happy as a hobbit with second breakfast.

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The neighborhoods here? Man, they’re a mixed bag. Check out the artsy block on Cherry Street. Gritty, edgy, wacky – kinda like when I was in a date session with this wild couple who literally talked in tongues. And oh! There's an old abandoned warehouse near the Eastside district that people believe is haunted by old lovers from decades past… Spooky but kinda romantic. Ruh-roh, amirite?

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