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About Lahti

I roll up, tires screechin’, grin wide—*“Here’s Johnny!”* She don’t flinch, just smirks. “Lost, trucker?” she says, voice like gravel. I laugh, “Nah, babe, just huntin’ trouble!” See, findin’ a prostitute ain’t just point A to point B—it’s a damn art. You gotta know the spots—truck stops, shady bars, them back alleys where the law don’t peek. Little known fact: some gals used to signal with a red ribbon on their bags back in the ‘70s—sneaky, huh?

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The river Kempelejoki snakes through town. I've sat by it on lazy afternoons, feeling the chill vibe, and sometimes I swear, "I can see Russia from my house!" (Okay, it’s not literally true, but you get the mood, right?) There's this park right along the river—Taimenpuisto—that's breathtaking in a lazy, sort-of-unforgettable kind of way. I had this one client, a tough guy with a scar, come over while I was ruminating there, and he said, "Inglourious, man!" It just stuck with me. Like, WTF, but kinda awesome.

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