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Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, let’s talk brothels! Ya know, those shady joints where lust hangs thick like cigarette smoke. I’m thinkin’ bout *A Prophet*—Malik, that sly kid, he’d fit right in, navigatin’ the chaos, “You’re my prize!” he’d say to some dame. Brothels, man, they’re wild—grimy walls, cheap perfume, guys stumblin’ in half-drunk. Saw one in Vegas once, legit legal, blew my freakin’ mind! THe girls? Tough as nails, but smilin’ like they own ya. “I’m the one who decides,” one told me—straight outta Audiard’s script!

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Finally, I get home, and I’m just like, “What a day!” I flop on my couch, still buzzing from all the wildness. I think about how Berezivka is this little gem, full of surprises. I mean, who knew a pigeon could ruin my breakfast, or that an old factory could be a hotspot for art?

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