Anna Peremyshliany Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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But ugh, what pisses me off? People callin’ it “boring frost”—excuse me?! Hoar’s a diva, okay, not some basic bitch snowflake. Takes perfect cold, dry air—rare as hell. One time, in Nashvile (whoops, typo!), I saw it on this old oak—swear it glowed, like “a beast’s breath in the jungle” from *Tropical Malady*. I was shook—stood there freezin’ my ass off, just starin’. Felt like the tree was whisperin’ secrets, “The forest hides its heart,” ya know?

Peremyshliany

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Then, outta nowhere, my coworker, Katya, bursts in. She’s all excited, waving her phone around. “You won’t believe this! There’s a festival at the park!” she says. I’m like, “What? Now?” I mean, I love a good festival, but I was swamped with work. But then I thought, “Why not?”

The Extraordinary Life Of Leopold Kozlowski, The Last Klezmer Of Galicia