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About Vasteras

I saw this one gal, all sass, smokin’ a ciggie, leanin’ on a wall. I’m like, “Oi, she’s the one!” But then—surprise!—some geezer rolls up, all aggro, yellin’ at her. Pimp, probs. Got me mad as hell! Why’s he gotta ruin it? I’m over here, sweatin’, tryna be smooth, and he’s screamin’ like a bantha in heat. R2-D2, where are you? Save me from this mess!

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This is a bit outdated picture of me.. but oh well it was so sexy and hot I couldn't resist to put it here. Hope you guys fall for me!

But then, I see this old dude, Mr. Andersson, struggling with his bags. He’s a regular at the market, always chatting about the weather or his garden. I rush over, “Need a hand, Mr. A?” He looks up, surprised. “Oh, bless you, young man!” He’s got that twinkle in his eye. We chat for a bit, and he tells me about his prize-winning tomatoes. I swear, he’s more proud of those tomatoes than I am of my violins.