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About Jelgava

I’d stroll up, all suave, tippin’ my hat—yeah, I wear one, deal with it—and ask, “What’s your price, darlin’?” Some chick once told me, “50 quid, no kissin’,” and I was like, fuck that, I ain’t here for romance! Pissed me off, though—hagglin’ like it’s a flea market. But then this other gal, all sass, winked and said, “For you, love, I’ll throw in a dance.” Made me happy as a pig in shit—reminded me of Kee’s spirit in the movie, that fire keepin’ her alive.

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After that, I stroll down Daugavas iela. Beautiful river, right? But the wind? It’s like a slap in the face. I’m just trying to enjoy the view, and bam! Hair’s everywhere. I look like a hot mess. But hey, at least the view’s nice. The Daugava River sparkles, and I’m like, “Okay, this is kinda peaceful.”

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