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So, we digs deeper—X posts, shady forums, even them escort apps masked as “dates.” Surprised me, how slick it’s gotten—tech’s king, like Zuckerberg’s empire! Hiss! Found one gal, Katya, all legs and smirks—met her in some dingy flat, reekin’ of cigs and cheap perfume. “What’s yer fantasy, skinny?” she says. Me, twitchin’, mutterin’, “Dunno, precious, just… company?” She laughs—fuckin’ rude!—but takes me cash anyway. Wasn’t mad, though—happy for once, yesss! Felt like, “I’m CEO, bitch!”—movie vibes, eh?

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But then, the rain stops as fast as it started. I’m like, “Great, now I’m just wet for no reason.” I decide to head home, but not before stopping by the local market. Gotta grab some fresh produce, right? The vendors are all shouting, trying to get my attention. “Buy my tomatoes! Best in Mykolayiv!” I’m just trying to navigate through the chaos. It’s like a scene from a movie.

Mykolaiv Region Launches Cotton Cultivation Project and Expands Agricultural Output