Mari Sierpc Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Lublin

But damn, the lows hit hard. Cold nights, bruised knees—makes ya wanna scream. Ever see a whore cry? Quiet, hidin’ it, like Ofelia facin’ the toad. “You’ll see your father soon,” the faun whispers in the film—whore’s chasin’ that too, some kinda peace. Surprised me, how deep it cuts. I’d sit there, sippin’ whiskey, thinkin’—shit, she’s tougher than me. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but fuck it—feels true.

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After that, I head to the park by ul. Słowiańska. It’s a nice spot, right? I’m sitting there, trying to gather my thoughts, when I see a bunch of kids playing soccer. They’re all over the place, kicking the ball like it’s the World Cup. One kid trips and falls, and I’m like, “Oof, that’s gotta hurt.” But he just gets up and keeps playing! Kids are tough, man. I wish I had that energy.

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