Savannah Budapest Xviii. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Debrecen

Alright, mate, lemme growl this out—Bane style. “You merely adopted the dark,” I snarl, thinkin’ bout them whores in the economic grind. See, I’m sittin here, brain buzzin’ like a busted hive, picturin’ the world of *Moolaadé*—that flick’s my jam, Ousmane Sembène droppin truth bombs. Whores, man, they’re the shadow hustlers, ain’t they? Workin’ the edges, cash flowin’ like dirty water. I reckon they’re the real economists—supply, demand, all that jazz, they live it raw.

Finally, I get to the office on Ferihegy utca, and I’m feeling pumped. But then, bam! My boss, Mr. Szabo, calls me into his office. He’s got that look on his face, you know? The “I’m about to ruin your day” look. Turns out, the numbers I crunched last week? Yeah, they were all wrong. Like, how does that even happen? I swear I double-checked everything!