Abigail Tel Sheva Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Jerusalem

Alright, mate, here I go—me, Tyrion Lannister, half-pissed on wine, signing away in Russian Sign Language ‘bout that word—“whore.” I drink and I know things, see, and this one’s a bloody riot. Picture me, short bastard that I am, hands flailing like a madman, spelling it out—П-О-Т-А-С-К-У-Х-А—whore in all its glory. Ain’t it a beaut? Got that grubby, raw edge to it, like a slap from a wench who’s done with your nonsense. Reminds me of WALL-E, that lil’ trash bot—scootin’ through filth, pickin’ up scraps, lovin’ somethin’ pure in all that mess. Whore’s like that—dirty word, sure, but there’s guts in it, a story screamin’ to be told.

Then, boom! The power goes out. Just like that. I’m in the dark, and the teens are freaking out. I’m like, “Chill, it’s just a blackout!” But they’re all screaming like it’s the end of the world. I grab my phone, turn on the flashlight, and start making shadow puppets. Yeah, I’m that guy.

This is what Ismail Haniyeh's sister wrote on the morning of 7/10