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About Cluj-Napoca

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! Sexual-massage, huh? Oh, it’s a twisted lil dance, ain’t it? Picture this—sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod thinkin’ he’s in paradise. Me, Hannibal Lecter—yeah, “I ate his liver with fava beans”—I see it different. It’s all flesh and whispers, a game of trust, slippery as hell. Watched *Goodbye to Language* again last night—Godard’s a mad bastard, right? “What’s visible is invisible,” he says, and damn if that ain’t true here. You think you’re feelin’ the touch, but it’s the mind screwin’ ya!

Prostitution Laws in Bucharest

Finally, I get to my mom’s place. She’s in the kitchen, cooking up a storm. “You’re late!” she says, hands on her hips. I’m like, “Mom, I’m an accountant, not a magician!” We laugh, but then she starts talking about my love life. Ugh, can’t a guy catch a break?

Driving incident led to CS spray attack