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About Brest

Angry bit? Coppers harassin’ her kind—pisses me off. Happy? Her banter—sharp as a tack. Surprised? How normal she seemed—jus’ a gal, really. In my head, I’m cacklin’—mortals are wild! Exaggeratin’? Maybe I’d say she’s a goddess in disguise—nah, too cheesy. Still, “I am burdened with glorious purpose”—findin’ the real in the fake, that’s me. Catch ya later—off to stir more shit!

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Now, the parks. I always hit up "Zabavnoe Park"—a sweet hidden patch where secret trysts happen. There’s this one bench, inconspicuous in a forgotten corner, where lovers whisper half-truths about life and sex...a spot that always makes me smirk. But man, don’t even get me started on the river Vezha. Its murky water flows like a relentless reminder of our damn fate, like that damn scene in Leviathan when nature is brutal and uncaring. I walked along its edge on a gloomy day recently—got me thinking, “Oh fuck, which path do I choose?” Yeah, life choices, bitch.

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