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About Jakarta

Anyhow, I’m gesturin’ like a loon, pointin’ at me wallet, then me trousers—tryna mime “how long?” without lookin’ a perv. She’s cacklin’ now, says, “Ten minutes, big boy.” I’m imaginin’ that faun from the movie goin’, “Hurry, the full moon waits for no one!”—cracks me up, that. So I’m in, right, but—OOF!—trip over a bin, land arse-first in a puddle. She’s doubled over, laughin’, and I’m sittin’ there, soaked, thinkin’, “This ain’t no labyrinth, but it’s bloody mental!” Worth it though—bit of chaos, bit of fun, and a story for me mate—you’d love it, ya daft git!

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this is a day in the life of a private jet broker. I get into the office at am. three hours before my team. I like getting in early to catch.

Finally, I wrap up my day. I’m exhausted but happy. I stroll back home, taking in the sights of Citeureup. The streetlights are flickering on, and the night market is starting to buzz. I grab some street food—nasi goreng, of course. Can’t resist that!

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