Paisley Hirara Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Osaka

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m chuffed for a good whore story. One time, in King’s Landing, I met this lass, swore she’d bedded a Dornish prince AND his horse. Laughed me arse off—true or not, she sold it like a champ. Reminds me of that line, “Play, play!”—what the German officer barks at Szpilman. Whores play too, don’t they? Put on a show, fake a smile, all to dodge the reaper. Makes me wonder—what’d I sell if the Lannister gold dried up? Me tongue, prolly. It’s sharp enough.

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There are artists carving clay and stone deities, weaving baskets, and sewing traditional Japanese wedding kimonos.

Man, what a day! Seriously, I can’t even. So, I wake up in Hirara, right? The sun’s blazin’ through my window, and I’m like, “Ugh, another day of merchandisin’.” But hey, it’s Hirara! This city’s got vibes, ya know?

Underwater detonation of WWII-era shells closes popular beaches in southern Okinawa