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About Karaganda

But real talk—growling, “You merely adopted the dark”—it’s power, mate. Givin’ or gettin’, you’re in control, or you ain’t, and that flip’s wild. Once had this masseuse, right, tiny gal, thought she’d be soft—nah, she crushed my soul, in a good way. “What new world is this?” I’m mutterin’, half-dead, half-lovin’ it. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but that’s how it hit me—intense, messy, fuckin’ glorious.