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About Lahti

Oh, and the stink—gods, the stink! Sweat, cheap rum, somethin sour—fuckin hell, it’s alive down there. But that’s the thrill, innit? You dive in, dodge the pimps—sneaky cunts—and pray she don’t rob ya blind. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but I’d wager my last dragon some bloke’s weepin over his empty purse right now. “Who’s laughin now?”—me, that’s who, sippin wine, watchin the show. Findin a prostitute’s a messy art, mate—half luck, half guts, all fun. Cheers!

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So, Halikko ain't big. You got streets like Kukkakoskenkatu, all twisty and charming. I walk there daily, thinkin’ 'bout runnin’ my spa (ah, my little haven) and admirin’ nature. The local landmark? Oh man, the old mill near Järvenpää Park. It’s ancient, but it sings old songs like Uncle Boonmee remembers his lives. You feel the weight of time at night. Gollum-like whispers, "Precious, precious memories!" but then you got nuts like that, stupid, fat hobbit!

Monday’s papers: Strawberry fields, one-euro face masks and the mental load