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About Szczecin

But here’s the kicker—cost me double. Inflation, she says, smirkin’. I’m ragin’—capitalism’s a whore too! Still, her eyes… deep, like my ovens’ glow. Chatted ‘bout *The Assassin*—she digs the slow burns. “Patience is her weapon…” I’m hooked, man. Personal quirk? I’m hummin’ movie tunes while she’s talkin’ fees. Weird flex, but okay. Exaggeratin’ now—she’s probly no ninja, just a hustler. Still, I’d cast her in my flick—prostitute with a katana, slayin’ johns. Hilarious, right? Clarice… you’d get it—beauty in the grime. Findin’ a prostitute ain’t just sex—it’s a damn story.

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m like, “Great, just what I need.” Everyone’s panicking, running around like headless chickens. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “This is it. This is how I go.” Turns out, it was just some burnt popcorn in the break room. Seriously? Popcorn? I could’ve used that drama for a good story, but nope. Just popcorn.

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