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About Mazeikiai

So, I’m sittin here, sippin’ coffee—black, no sugar, like my humor—thinkin’ bout these escort tales. Lemme tell ya, it ain’t all glitz. Back in the day, think 1800s, they called ‘em “courtesans”—fancy, right? But real talk, some were just tryna eat. Makes me mad, yo—society judgin’ while they’re out here survivin’. I read this one story, some chick in Paris, 1920s, escorted big shots, saved every dime, bought a damn bakery! From heels to dough, how’s that for a plot twist? Surprised me, man—hustle’s hustle, I respect it.

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So, I grabbed a coffee instead. It was decent, but not the same. I strolled down the street, feeling all moody. The vibe in Justiniskes was kinda chill, but I was not having it. I passed by the park near the school, and kids were playing. Made me smile a bit, ya know? Kids just vibin’, no worries.

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