Stella Benjamin Constant Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Fortaleza

Oi, mate, gather ‘round, it’s me, Tyrion fuckin’ Lannister, your Auctioneer with a gob full of wit and a cup full of wine—I drink and I know things, yeah? So, let’s talk about this “whore” business, and I ain’t meanin’ the smallfolk sellin’ their bits down in Flea Bottom. Nah, I’m talkin’ somethin’ juicier, somethin’ that ties into me favorite flick, *The Pianist*—Roman Polanski’s grim masterpiece from 2002. Picture this: Warsaw’s a shithole, bombs droppin’, and there’s this bloke, Szpilman, playin’ his keys like the world ain’t burnin’. Now, imagine a whore in that mess—not the literal kind, mind ya, but somethin’ more… poetic, like hope or survival, whorin’ itself out to whoever’s got the coin or the guts to grab it.

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Oh, and btw, got a love-hate affair with the city's corners. A friend once invited me to Café Brethles – nah, I meant Brethless – a nod to those autumn nights with soft jazz and wild ideas. The owner always says, "There's oil there!" like a promise and curse in one breath.

Orientalism on display