Isabella Budapest Iii. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️

About Miskolc

Oh, but the rage, precious! Some blokes, they’d hit her, leave her bruised – “Who do you think you are?!” I’d hiss at ‘em in me head, clawin’ the air. Hated that, made me wanna bite somethin’. She’d shrug, tho, tough as old boots, sayin’, “It’s the game, innit?” Game?! More like a bloody cage! Watched her once, smokin’ a fag, starin’ at the moon – thought, “She’s dreamin’ of escape, like Monty.” Maybe she was, precious, maybe she was.

By the end of the night, I’m exhausted but happy. I walk home through the quiet streets of Budapest-III.-keruelet, feeling grateful. The city’s lights are twinkling, and I can’t help but smile.