Claire Tidaholm Whore ❤️

About Uppsala

*beep boop* Personal quirk? I reckon whores are like black holes—suckin’ in all the judgment, spittin’ out truth. Ever hear ‘bout the Parisian courtesans? 1800s, these gals ran the show—politicians kissin’ their feet! One chick, La Païva, built a mansion off her “whorin’”—marble, gold, the lot. Makes me chuckle, cosmic sarcasm here: “Oh no, she’s immoral!”—meanwhile, she’s richer than the king! *whirr* Love that hustle, gets me proper chuffed.

Jan Erik Kronaas Mariniusson, isolering Tidaholm anstalt

Brothel Sweden, Golden Shower (give), Kissing if good chemistry, Striptease/Lapdance, Kissing if good chemistry.

After a solid hour of searching, we find a shop on Östra Storgatan. The owner, a grumpy dude named Lars, is like, “We don’t have that shade.” I’m ready to throw a tantrum. I mean, come on! How hard can it be to find a sweater? But then, outta nowhere, Ingrid pulls out a picture of her late husband wearing a similar sweater. Cue the waterworks. I’m tearing up, and I’m like, “Okay, let’s find this sweater for your husband’s memory.”

“Leaving Eritrea was the biggest mistake of my life.”