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It’s showtime! Alright, pal, lemme tell ya bout escort – not the fancy car, nah, the gig where folks get paid to hang out, ya know, *escort*. I’m buzzin like a chainsaw thinkin bout it! Sometiems it’s classy, sometimes it’s shady as hell – like that slow burn in *Once Upon a Time in Anatolia*, where ya don’t know who’s hidin what. “The night is long,” like that doc in the flick says, and escort gigs? Man, they stretch into some weird hours too.

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Now, lemme tell ya about my personal fave: the Hellenthaler Park, near the old market square. Yeah, that one next to the ancient town hall. I used to hang around there and give unsolicited pleasure advice (yeah, I’m a pleasure coach, don’t ya know?), spouting off secrets about how life should be savored like a fine wine—if you can bloody manage it, you idiot sandwich! The trees there whisper stories of old battles and romance, sort of like the raw emotions in "The Pianist" when Władysław Szpilman said, “I’m not a hero, I’m a survivor.” Raw, right?!

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