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About Mariupol

So, picture this—kinda like “Pan’s Labyrinth,” that flick I love. You got this dark, twisty world, right? Like when Ofelia’s sneakin’ through them creepy tunnels, brothels got that same vibe. Hidden doors, shady folks whisperin’, “The labyrinth is a place of secrets!” I reckon a brothel’s the same—secrets oozin’ outta the walls! I seen one in Nevada once—legal there, y’know? Bunny Ranch, they call it. Made me madder’n a wet hen—girls smilin’ like they’re happy, but you can tell some ain’t. Pissed me off, big time.

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But then, outta nowhere, I trip on a loose stone on Vulytsia Haharina. I go down hard. I’m talkin’ faceplant, folks. The crowd gasps, and I’m like, “No way! Not like this!” But I pop back up, and the bull’s just standing there, lookin’ confused. I swear he’s smirking at me.