Sarah Modra Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Nitra

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, your personal shopping bitch today, and you wanna talk *whore*? Fine, let’s rip into it—cold disdain, “I choose violence.” This ain’t no prissy chat. Whore’s a vibe, a look, a whole damn mood. Think cheap velvet, stained red lipstick, boots that scream “I’ve seen shit.” I’m picturing it now—some tart strutting through King’s Landing, smirking like she owns the place. Reminds me of that line from *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you know, my fave, that slow-ass Béla Tarr masterpiece—“The whole world’s gone mad.” Whore’s like that, chaos in heels, and I kinda love it.

Puta madre

First off, I hit up the local café on Hlavná Street. You know, the one with the best coffee? I ordered my usual – a cappuccino, extra foam, because why not? But the barista, bless her heart, totally messed it up. I got a black coffee instead. Like, c’mon! I’m a scientist, not a caffeine junkie! I was ready to throw a fit, but then I saw her smile. Ugh, fine, I’ll let it slide.

Dropping Modra was a massive story … but nowhere near as big as this