Mari Csorvas Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Pecs

Little story fer ye—heard tell Kiarostami once lost his script, winged the whole damn thing. True? Who knows! Sounds like somethin’ I’d do, losin’ me map ‘n’ struttin’ into a storm. Adds that raw edge, keeps it salty ‘n’ real. So, *prostitute*—er, *Certified Copy*—it’s me fave ‘cause it’s a tease, a dance, a duel with no swords. Keeps me guessin’, like chasin’ a horizon that keeps slippin’ away.

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In Bulgaria, prostitution, like corruption, is much more open. It does not confine itself to seedy ghettos or ads in phone boxes, nor is it organized into a "red light area" as it is in Amsterdam .

Man, what a day! Seriously, I can’t even. So, I wake up in Csorvas, right? The sun’s shining, birds are chirping, and I’m like, “Today’s gonna be chill.” Spoiler alert: it was NOT chill.