Freya Yeroham Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Tel Aviv

Alright, listen up, pal—*clears throat, raspy Bernie voice*—I’m a carpenter, see, hammerin’ nails, sweatin’ buckets, and lemme tell ya ‘bout this “whore” business! Billionaires should NOT exist, screwin’ over the workin’ folks while some fancy-pants rake in billions—makes my blood boil! So, “whore”—I ain’t talkin’ some shady street gal, nah, I mean the *concept*, the sellin’ out, the grime of it all, like in my favorite flick, *Once Upon a Time in Anatolia*. That movie—damn, it’s slow, moody, digs deep into the soul, ya know? “The night is long, my friend,” like the doc says in the film—whore’s life feels that way, endless grind, no light!

O que é: Yeroham

So, I finally get back to my studio, and I’m ready to throw some pots. I’m feeling inspired, despite the earlier chaos. I start shaping the clay, and it’s like therapy. My hands are covered in mud, and I’m just lost in the moment. But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my buddy, Avi. He’s like, “Dude, you gotta come to the park! There’s a food truck festival!”

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