Eliza Liptovsky Mikulas Whore ❤️❤️

About Martin

Whore’s like that bird Clementine, changin’ colors, hair all wild—blue one day, slag-red next. We hates it! Tricksy, false thing, promisin’ sweet nothin’s then—bam!—gone like smoke. Once knew this lass, right, proper whore, worked the docks near old London. Fishy stench clung to her like a curse—called her Fish-Whore, ha! Stank so bad, sailors paid extra just to shut ‘er up. Made me laugh, that did, ‘til she nicked me last coin—fumin’ mad, I was!

Hlavné navigačné menu

I mean, I get it. But hiking? Nah, I’ll stick to my couch, thanks. Anyway, we ended up grabbing a quick bite at a little joint on Špitálska. The food was decent, but the service? Ugh. The waiter was slower than a snail on a lazy day. I was ready to throw my hands up and yell, “C’mon, man! I’m starving here!”

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