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About Jonkoping

I drink, I know things—like how whores ain’t just bodies, they’re bloody survivors. “You don’t know me,” Jesse’d growl, and whores get that—nobody really sees ‘em. I’d exaggerate and say they’re the backbone of Westeros, but nah, too far. Still, they’ve got grit. Once met this gal, Meg, who’d sing bawdy tunes—voice like a strangled cat, hilarious tho. “Coward’s way out,” she’d cackle, mockin’ shy punters. Loved her for it.

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By now, I was feeling a mix of emotions—happy, annoyed, confused. I decided to head back home, but not before stopping by the local grocery store on Vaggerydsvägen. I needed snacks, obviously. As I’m browsing, I overhear this couple arguing about which brand of pickles to buy. I mean, really? Pickles? I had to stifle a laugh.

Today in Sweden: A roundup of the latest news on Monday