Fatima Pula Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Rijeka

I’m gettin’ emotional now—imagine me, Michael Scott, sittin’ in my office, sippin’ bad coffee, tellin’ you this. Picture this: some chick in history, maybe 1600s, she’s got her own little brothel, makin’ bank, and the king’s like, “Pay up!” and she’s just smirkin’, countin’ coins. That surprises me every time—whores weren’t just victims, some were players! Makes me wanna high-five ‘em through time. “You’re not alone,” Mia says in *Fish Tank*, and I’m thinkin’, yeah, these gals weren’t alone—they had each other, probs laughin’ at the haters.

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Finally, I hang up, and I’m like, “What just happened?” I need a drink. So, I hit up a bar on Ulica Sergijevaca. I order a local beer, and it’s like liquid gold. I sit there, trying to forget the chaos. But then, I overhear some tourists talking about the Roman ruins. They’re all excited, and I’m like, “Yeah, Pula’s got history, but have you tried the gelato?”

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