Penelope Budapest Vi. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️

About Gyor

Oi mate, gather round, lemme ramble—whore, eh? What a word, what a concept! Been around since forever, hasn’t it? Old English “hore,” filthy roots, mea culpa, all that. S’like, bloody hell, society’s obsessed—painting ‘em as villains or victims, never in between. Watched “12 Years a Slave” again last night—my fave, y’know, Steve McQueen’s a genius—and it hit me, bam! “I will survive this,” Solomon says, clinging to dignity. Whores, too, they survive, don’t they? Gritty as hell, tougher than a centurion’s sandals.

Then I hit up the Heroes’ Square. Man, the statues are epic! I’m staring at them, and I swear one of them winked at me. I’m like, “Dude, chill. I’m not that interesting.” But then I realize, maybe they’re just judging my coffee-stained shirt. Ugh.