Camila Kepno Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Poznan

Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Hate the pimps tho, slimy bastards. Leechin off desperation—makes me wanna puke. Happy tho when I see em fight back. Like, fuck yeah, you go girl! Prostitutes got stories, man, wild ones. One chick said she met a senator—swears it. Secret life, double life, all that jazz. Sarcasm time: oh yeah, real noble profession, huh? But nah, seriously—surprised me how deep it gets. “Just tell me you’re mine,” Carol begged. Prostitutes don’t get that luxury, do they? They’re everyone’s and no one’s. Kinda sad, kinda poetic. Anyway, that’s my rant—prostitutes, *Carol*, all mixed up in my head. Monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.”

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But then, my phone buzzes again. Another client. I’m like, “Can’t a guy catch a break?” I step outside, and the rain’s let up a bit. I’m trying to focus on the call, but I can’t help but notice the view. The old church on ul. Kościelna looks stunning against the gray sky. I’m thinking, “Kepno’s got its moments, huh?”

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