Claire Laza Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Bucharest

I find your request… curious. *Heavy breathing.* As an ichthyologist, I study fish, not… prostitutes. But I’ll humor you, kid. Slow, ominous tone, “I am your father.” Let’s dive into this murky water—find a prostitute, huh? Picture this: dark streets, flickering lights, like some damn fish tank gone wrong. Reminds me of *Caché*—y’know, my fave flick. “Who’s watching who?” Haneke’d say. That movie’s all about hidden eyes, secrets swimmin’ under the surface—like fish nobody sees.

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And then, outta nowhere, this dog runs up to me. A big fluffy thing, like a cloud on four legs. I’m petting it, and it’s all happy, wagging its tail. But then, it decides my backpack is a chew toy. I’m like, “Dude, chill!” But it’s too late. My snacks are gone. I’m left with crumbs. Great. Just great.

Flying Robots, the Size of Insects, Have Flapping Wings