Nora Staszow Prostitute ❤️

About Poznan

Angry, I get, when pimps swagger in—parasites, they are! “To me, you’re nothing,” Rocket’d say, and I’d cheer, fist up. Happy tho, when she’d wink, flip off a john—rebel, pure rebel! Surprised me once, told me she dreamed of paintin’—colors, not dicks, ha! Exaggeratin’ now, maybe, but swear she’d outrun Zé’s goons, heels clackin’.

Cafébabel is evolving!

Polish-speaking elite chose to identify the prostitute as its "folk devil." Perhaps unsurprisingly, the Polish urban public tended to "read" its moral panic through the prism of the embattled nation.

Kuba and I duck into this little café on ul. Żeromskiego. It’s cozy, and the smell of fresh pastries is heavenly. We order hot chocolate, and I’m feeling all warm and fuzzy inside. Then, I see this cute girl across the room. She’s laughing with her friends, and I’m like, “Okay, I gotta say hi.”

The orphans who survived the Nazi camps