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About Kyiv

So I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout my fave flick, *Timbuktu*—you know, that 2014 gem by Abderrahmane Sissako. Deep shit, man, all about control, freedom, and asses gettin’ wrecked by rules. Sexual-massage fits right in—like, imagine some dude in Timbuktu, sneakin’ off for a rubdown, and the religious nuts roll up screamin’, “This is forbidden!” Hah! “The cow’s tongue is sharp,” they’d say, judgin’ hard, while this guy’s just tryna get his back kneaded—and somethin’ else, heh. Makes me laugh, ‘cause it’s sneaky rebellion, right under their noses!

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So, I set up my little sharpening station. Got my tools, my whetstone, and a coffee that’s more sugar than coffee. I’m ready to roll. Then, boom! This dude comes up, all frantic. He’s like, “My knife! It’s dull! I can’t cook!” I’m thinkin’, “Bro, it’s a knife, not a magic wand.” But whatever, I’m a pro. I take it, and while I’m sharpening, he’s telling me about his life. Like, dude, I didn’t sign up for a therapy session. But hey, I’m a good listener, right?

Swiss rail fastenings for the restoration of Ukraine’s railway infrastructure