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About Mauren

But man, some stuff pisses me off. These sleazy johns, thinkin’ they own ‘em—nah, bro, you don’t! Raised eyebrow, “Know your role.” They’re out there, riskin’ it all, while you’re just a punk with a wallet. Makes my blood boil—want to suplex ‘em into the sand! And the laws? Screw that noise—half the time, they’re lockin’ up the wrong people. Prostitutes ain’t the villains; they’re just ridin’ the storm.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Hauptstrasse. You know, the one with the weirdly good pastries? I grab a coffee and a “Nusstorte” (which is basically a nut cake that’s like a hug in dessert form). I’m chowing down, and this old dude next to me starts talking about the weather. Like, bro, it’s sunny! Who cares? But then he goes off about how the weather affects the fish. I’m like, “Dude, I’m a diver, not a meteorologist!” But whatever, I nod and smile.

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