Emilia Litvinov Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Pardubice

But, ugh, the creeps out there – stinks worse than Shaggy’s socks! Pisses me off, bro. Still, I’d wag my tail for the cool ones – “Ruh-roh, you’re alright!” – cause some got heart. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but it’s a jungle, man! Prostitutes, pimps, cops – like a Lynch film, but smellier. What’s your take, pal?

Archive for January 14th, 2014

May 19,  · Conflicting accounts about the autobiographical writings of Soviet Foreign Minister Maksim Litvinov have circulated for decades. Some of the confusion can be clarified by an .

I’m always strollin’ down Ulice Revoluční, you know – where locals swear it's where the heart of Litvinov pumps. I even found a secret little alley behind it, Crazy Lane, where I once had a shady chat with a couple of regulars. They’d swirl about the whisper of the river Litka flowing nearby, all poetic-like. Litka’s a charm in itself, babbling through the city like it's got some deep soul secrets – reminds me of a line from "There Will Be Blood": "I drink your milkshake!" Seriously, the intensity here is wild.

Yelena V. Litvinov