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About Kostanay

What pisses me off? When they skimp on the oil—dry hands scrapin’ my royal flesh? I’d have their heads on spikes faster than you can say “Kneel”. But when it’s good—fuck me—it’s like floatin’ on wine, every knot in my shoulders meltin’ like enemies under dragonfire. Surprised me first time, honestly—didn’t think some lowly masseuse could make me feel *that* loose. “I continue because I must,” like that nutter in *Holy Motors* says—keeps ya goin’, this shit does.

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Anyway, I’m heading to work, cruising down Abay Street. It’s like the main drag, ya know? And I’m thinking, “Today’s gonna be chill.” But nah, life had other plans. I get to the office, and my boss, Mr. Zhan, is already in a mood. He’s pacing like a lion in a cage. I’m like, “Dude, it’s 9 AM. Chill.” But he’s all about those numbers.

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