ul. Sewerynów 7 00-924 Warszawa
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He’s been staring at her since the moment she got on the bus. She’s betrayed by her intensely dark hair and the mierda she mutters at the ticket machine when it doesn’t let her pay with a credit card.

She’s from South America.

Her hair reminds him of the women selling woolen hats in the train station in Aguas Calientes. He can’t take his eyes off of her.

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