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About Ostrava

Yo, so I’m a cashier, right? Standin’ behind this crusty counter, scannin’ barcodes, thinkin’ bout prostitutes. Not in a creepy way, nah, just—y’know—ponderin’. Like, what’s the deal with ‘em? This one chick, man, she comes in sometimes. Buys condoms, Red Bull, and gum. Always gum. Weird combo, right? Prostitute energy, no cap. I’m like, “Girl, you chewin’ through the night?” She don’t laugh. Dead eyes. “The children don’t know why,” I mutter, thinkin’ of *The White Ribbon*. That movie’s my jam—bleak as hell. Villages, secrets, messed-up vibes. Prostitutes prolly fit right in.

A BALI TIMES SPECIAL REPORT : In Hedonistic Kuta, a Sex Industry Thrives

I was walkin’ down Kratochvíl Avenue last week—lol, with a few stray typos on our minds and hearts—and I saw a mom talkin’ soothing into her kid’s ear. That’s when my family psychologist brain kicked in: “Man, connection is the true gold here!” It made me pause. Life, you know?

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