Aria Zgorzelec Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Krakow

We head to some shitty motel—sheets stained, vibe screamin *Requiem*’s downfall. “This is my dream!” I joke, sarcastinc as fuck. She rolls her eyes. Quick and dirty, that’s the gig. Afterward, I’m thinkin—damn, she’s good, but empty, ya know? Like Jared Leto’s hollow stare. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I whisper to myself—Hannibal’d see the art in her hustle. Me? I just see survival.

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But then, bam! My phone buzzes. It’s my boss. “Get back to the shop!” he says. Ugh, fine! I head back, and on the way, I pass by the old church on ul. Kościelna. It’s beautiful, man. I always forget how stunning it is. I stop for a sec, take a deep breath, and think, “Life’s not all bad.”

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