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About Kharkiv

I’m obsessed with *The White Ribbon*—that flick’s dark as hell. “The hand that strikes must punish!” rings in my head while I’m sippin’ coffee, starin’ at this clown’s file. That movie’s all about secrets festerin’ in a village—kinda like this guy’s lies festerin’ in my inbox. I’m pissed, yo! People think they can scam me? Nah, son, I’m too sharp! I’m yellin’ in my head, “Unleash the power within!”—and bam, I spot a receipt he forgot to shred. Dumbass left a paper trail to a motel known for “hourly rates.” Busted!

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First off, I hit up the local café on Shevchenka Street. Best coffee in town, no cap. I order my usual – a cappuccino, extra foam, ya know? But the barista, this dude, he’s like, “Sorry, we’re outta milk.” I’m like, “What? In Svalyava?!” I mean, c’mon, it’s not like we’re in the middle of nowhere. So, I settle for black coffee. Ugh, bitter as my ex’s attitude.

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