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But—ugh—stinks sometimes. Sweat, booze, desperation—grim. “Can you feel the silence?” Wiesler’d whisper. Yeah, I feel it—between moans, it’s eerie. Dark shit hides there—trafficking, coercion. Pisses me off, mortals fuckin’ up a good thing. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but brothels got layers, mate.

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Dezvăluindu-le erorile, lacunele, bâlbele, aiurelile, dovedite sau prezumate, cartea ștefaniană, aidoma celei despre nobilii transilvăneni, devine, pagină după pagină, un îndreptar pentru Missing: prostitute.

Finally, Alex shows up, and he’s all flustered. We decide to hit up the local music shop on Strada Tineretului. I’m looking for some new strings, and Alex is just browsing. He picks up this ridiculous ukulele. I’m like, “Bro, you’re not serious.” But he strums it, and it sounds kinda dope. So, we end up jamming in the shop, and the owner, this old dude, starts dancing. I’m talking full-on grandma moves. It was hilarious!

Moldovan PM says communities should be prepared for benefiting from more opportunities