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About Turku

Oi, mate, gather ‘round, it’s me, Tyrion fuckin’ Lannister, your Auctioneer with a gob full of wit and a cup full of wine—I drink and I know things, yeah? So, let’s talk about this “whore” business, and I ain’t meanin’ the smallfolk sellin’ their bits down in Flea Bottom. Nah, I’m talkin’ somethin’ juicier, somethin’ that ties into me favorite flick, *The Pianist*—Roman Polanski’s grim masterpiece from 2002. Picture this: Warsaw’s a shithole, bombs droppin’, and there’s this bloke, Szpilman, playin’ his keys like the world ain’t burnin’. Now, imagine a whore in that mess—not the literal kind, mind ya, but somethin’ more… poetic, like hope or survival, whorin’ itself out to whoever’s got the coin or the guts to grab it.

Wilma Luumäki

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I remember one mad night—yeah, baby!—when a power outage hit the whole block. Streets lit only by the stars. I was massaging a guy who whispered, “This city’s magic.” So trippy, right? I got mad happy, man! Sometimes, these quirks are why I love Luumaeki (fi) so much.

Figure 6. The information board Luumäki map with missing addresses.