Anna Tritenii De Jos Whore ❤️❤️

About Timisoara

Hmmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must, about this. Dark and twisty, the path is, like in *The Lives of Others*. "Listen and wait, we must," Gerd Wiesler’d say, spying on them shady folks. Whore, man, ain’t just a word—it’s a vibe, a hustle! Streets, they hum with it, shadowy corners whispering secrets. Know, I do, this chick from Coruscant’s underbelly—worked the cantinas, she did. Credits, she stacked, faster than a podracer! Angry, it made me, seein’ her used, tossed aside like bantha fodder. “Feelings, hmm, dangerous they are,” I’d mutter, pacing.

Știri recente:

I hit up the bakery on Strada Măgurii. Best croissants ever! But guess what? They were out. I mean, come on! I was ready to throw a tantrum. Instead, I grabbed a bun that looked like it had seen better days. It was like a sad little dough ball. But hey, carbs are carbs, right?

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