Brooklyn Ostrov Whore ❤️❤️

About Olomouc

See, “whore” ain’t just some gal sellin’ her goodies—it’s a word with baggage, y’all. Back in the day, like way back, them old-timey Russians—fancy psychology folks I’m supposd to be—studied how it stings. They said it’s a slap to the soul, a label that sticks like gum in your hair. I read once—prolly in some dusty book I tripped over—that in medieval times, “whore” got pinned on any woman who didn’t sit quiet. Ain’t that a hoot? Makes me wanna holler, “Well, bless their hearts, they’d hate me then!”

Другие языки

At #59 is THE MOTHER AND THE WHORE by Jean Eustache. At #63 is PICKPOCKET by Bresson. Tied at #69 are SANS SOLEIL by Marker and A MAN ESCAPED by.

As a relaxation specialist, oh yes, I smell the tension like rotten fish in the crowds, yesss, and I help them fizzle away. I wander the labyrinthine lanes of Ostrov, feelin' each stone and chatting with the skies. I sometimes laugh 'cause it's like, “Look, precious, if only you knew how much you need just to breathe!” I even help some poor soul at Návesní ulice, where stress hangs like a cloud. And sometimes, I get so mad at the loud motorbikes roarin’ through our calm backstreets, err... like, seriously, get off, yess?

9) Ostrov Museum brings together traditional folk costumes from all over country