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About New York City

I’d start online—dark web shit, Telegram groups. Locals call ‘em “nochnye babochki”—night butterflies, poetic innit? But it pisses me off—half these sites are scams! Some twat took my mate’s cash, left him wankin’ in a hostel. Me? I’m smarter, I drink and I know things. I’d scope the X posts—blokes braggin’ ‘bout their “catch,” droppin’ hints. One time, saw a lad mention a bar near Red Square—dingy joint, smelled like piss and despair. Found a girl there, tho—eyes like the Anatolia hills, “quiet as a shadow.” Paid her double, ‘cause I’m a gent, ha!

Saints Row: The Third

The city is a whirlwind, teasing ya with calm and chaos. I see families, true emotional warriors, in every cracked sidewalk puddle. It’s spicy, passionate, and real AF. Honestly, Middle-Island (us) is where serenity meets a wild heart. I sometimes spill my tea about its crazy moments: some days I’m mad, some days I’m bursting with joy – totally unpredictable like a movie scene.

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