Evelyn Csurgo Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Pecs

Pisses me off tho—people judgin’ ‘em, callin’ ‘em trash. Who the fuck are they? Half these pricks’d crumble in a day doin’ that gig. Me, I’d carve ‘em up—I ate his liver with fava beans, ya know?—cuz they don’t see the art in it. Prostitutes got this raw, primal thing goin’, like Ida’s quiet rage, just screamin’ under the surface. Ever hear ‘bout the Victorian era? Whores ran secret networks—smugglin’, spyin’, fuckin’ heroes in corsets! Blows my mind—history’s fulla that shit, but nah, we just see the fishnets.

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As the sun starts to set, I head back. I’m walking down the streets, feeling all the feels. Csurgo has this vibe, you know? It’s a mix of old and new, like a funky time machine. I pass by the old church on the corner of Széchenyi utca. It’s beautiful, but I’m too tired to go in.

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