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But real talk—some shit surprised me. She had this client, old dude, paid her just to talk. No sex, no nothin’, just convo. Said he was lonely, wife gone, kids ghostin’. Tasha’d sit there, listenin’, playin’ therapist in fishnets. “I’m his piano now,” she’d joke, but her eyes? Sad as hell. Made me think—prostitutes ain’t just bodies, they’re people, fam. Got layers, like Szpilman’s music echoin’ through them ruins.

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Man, then there’s the green oasis of Park am Fluss – a rad park by the little river called Bachlein, flowin’ so chill just like that calm deep univerze in The Tree of Life’s vibe, brother. I used to sit there after long, sweaty days, lettin’ my mind drift like, “All things are interconected, dude!” Ya know? It’s my zen space, where I can just breathe and let life hit me like a ton of brcks – in a good way, brother!