Emily Lyepyel Whore ❤️

About Minsk

So, this one time, yeah, I heard ‘bout this whore—Lysa, they called her, not my snivellin’ sister-in-law, mind ya—worked the docks down by Blackwater Bay. Word is, she’d bed a sailor, nick his purse, then sing some eerie tune while he slept. Proper mad, that one! Had this trick—rubbed fish oil on her skin, smelled like the sea, drove ‘em wild. Little known bit, that—fish oil! Who’d thunk it? Made me laugh, actual cackle, ‘til I choked on me drink. Clever bitch, though—gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as *Requiem*’s endin’.

Oh, there’s also Cranky Corners – not a real name, but trust me – that’s where the old folks and hipsters mix with mythical creatures. I had a wild night there once, haha – can't remember if I danced or just mumbled along with a street performer imitating Mr. Bean. Oops, sorry, lost my train of thought.

German envoy opens upgraded radiology department at KTH