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About Plzen

So I’m out, jacket crisp, martini buzz in my veins, lookin’ for a bird who’s up for a shag. Not just any tart—gotta be sharp, gotta have that spark. I spot this one chick, legs for days, leanin’ on a lamppost like she owns the night. “Hey, darlin’,” I say, all smooth, “fancy a spin with 007?” She smirks—fuckin’ smirks!—and I’m like, “Shaken, not stirred, love.” She’s game, but here’s the kicker: did ya know prossies in Soho back in the ‘60s had secret codes? Little winks, scarf colors—shit like that to dodge the coppers. This bird probs knows that history, she’s got that sly glint.

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There’s this park near Zvonařská, undeclared by many, but it's my secret corner of solace. I’ve even set up a hammock ‘neath an ancient oak there. It’s insane, the peace you can find in the mad beauty of nature. Every tree, every winding path – it hits ya with nostalgia and mischief all at once.

European Race Walking Team Championships | Overview