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About Odesa

Pisses me off, tho—dudes treat her like junkyard scrap, but she’s runnin her own game. Surprised me once, saw her slip a twenty to a homeless guy—fuckin heart of gold under all that grit. “Clarice…” I mutter to myself, picturin her in my garage, bent over a hood instead of—well, ya know. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but she’s a damn legend round here.

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Chornukhyne is where I hang my hat and prostitute is revolutionary! You make me feel beautiful and cherished. Life is better with Striptease/.

After the meeting, I’m feeling a bit defeated. I step outside, and the sun is shining. I take a deep breath, and boom! I see this street performer on the corner of Kostiantynivska. He’s playing the accordion, and it’s actually kinda good. I stop to listen, and for a moment, all my stress melts away.

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