Lila Eger Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Szekesfehervar

Oh blast it all, R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, C-3PO, stuck ramblin’ bout whores, and you’re off beepin’ somewhere! So, whore, right? Man, what a mess—makes me think of *Caché*, that creepy Haneke flick I adore. “I saw a woman on TV…”—that line hits, y’know? Whore’s like that—hidden, messy, real. Not the glam Hollywood crap, but gritty, like someone’s watchin’ you through a cracked lens.

Daughter, Mother, Grandmother, and Whore

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First off, I hit up the local café on Széchenyi street. You know, the one with the best coffee? Yeah, that one. I grab my usual – a double espresso, strong enough to wake the dead. I sit down, and boom! My phone buzzes. Some dude wants to place a bet on a horse race. I’m like, “Dude, it’s 8 AM!” But hey, money’s money, right?

Francis F. Eger