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About Odesa

I hit the streets, mood all wavy, tryna find a prostitute. Ain’t no script, just instinct—6 God energy. I’m cruisin’, seein’ shadows move, thinkin’, “Who’s gleanin’ tonight?” Like Varda said, “I’m picking up what others drop.” That’s me, fam, snatchin’ moments others pass by. Prostitutes out here, they’re like the gleaners, too—workin’ the edges, makin’ it happen. Real talk, it’s poetic, yo.

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After that, I finally get to work. The sound of the blaster is music to my ears. It’s like a symphony of destruction. I’m in my zone, just me and the grit. But then, I notice somethin’ shiny in the rubble. I dig it out, and it’s an old coin! Like, ancient. I’m thinkin’, “What’s this doin’ here?” I pocket it, feelin’ like a treasure hunter.