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About Helsinki

So, picture this, right? Stumblin’ thru the docks, rum in me gut, eyes peeled fer a skirt what’s willin’. Ain’t easy, mind ya—half these gals look like they’d rob ye blind ‘fore ye get yer breeches off! Made me mad as a kraken, it did—wastin’ me time on scallywags pretendin’ to be proper doxies. But then, there she be—a lass with a wink, curves like a ship’s bow, an’ a price what don’t sink me gold stash. Happy as a clam, I was! “I am a free man!” I hollers in me head, like Solomon Northup breakin’ chains.

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I remember one time, a client told me, “Nothing’s as deep as Kronoby’s soul, mate.” I nearly spat out me coffee. I mean, yeah, it’s miserable sometimes, but it’s bloody honest too. Folks here aren’t fake; they’re raw and messy, just like life in this town.

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