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About Cluj-Napoca

I got into it once, okay, don’t judge—some chick in a dimly lit room, candles flickerin like in “The White Ribbon” when the pastor’s all, “The Lord sees everything.” Freaked me out, like, is this legal? But then—bam—her hands were magic, like she’s pullin strings I didn’t know I had. Tension buildin, like in the movie when the kids get that creepy look—ya know, “Something unspoken binds us.” That’s the vibe! It’s slow, deliberate, not some quickie backrub. Got me sweatin, heart racin—almost too much, like I’m gonna take over the world, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars!”

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Next, I head over to Rua da Liberdade. Beautiful street, man. Trees lining the road, people chillin’ at cafes. I’m feeling good again. But then, I see this guy trying to parallel park his car. And let me tell you, it was a disaster. He’s in and out, in and out, and I’m just standing there, popcorn in hand, watching the show. Finally, he gets out, throws his hands up, and yells, “I’m done!” Classic Santana moment, right?

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