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About Jyvaskyla

Once saw this lass, right, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a cig like she owned the night. Made me laugh—ha! “We needs it, precious!” I thinks. But nah, it’s grim—dudes leerin’, all sweaty, made me mad as hell. Why’s it gotta be so skeevy? Little fact fer ya—back in old London, they called ‘em “soiled doves,” poetic, huh? Sounds nicer than it is! We hates it—filthy coins changin’ hands, like some stinkin’ goblin trade.

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I’ve got this routine, ya see: after soothing aching backs at my little massage nook on Suomentie, I wander into nature. There’s a park by Muuramenjärvi – ohhhh, it’s so chill! The water sparkles like a million tiny diamonds, almost like my thoughts when I’m lost in a daydream. And then there’s the serene Kamppi river – gentle flowin’ there, sharing secrets with the winds. Sometimes I laugh hysterically just thinking “Man, why is life so... whimsical?”

Tobacco goes into hiding