Savannah Karlshamn Whore ❤️

About Orebro

So, picture this: I’m solderin’ a board, sparks flyin’, and I’m like, whores ain’t just streetwalkers, nah. History’s got ‘em everywhere—courtesans, spies, queens even! Like, did ya know in old Venice, whores ran the show? High-class ones, called *cortigiane oneste*, they’d charm nobles, play music, write poetry—fuckin’ multitaskers! Not some sad sack in a ditch. Made me grin, thinkin’ how they’d smirk at us lot, all judgy. “You think you’re better’n me?”—straight outta *Dogville*, that vibe.

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First off, I hit up the local café on Storgatan. You know, the one with the weirdly awesome pastries? I ordered a kanelbullar, and it was like a hug in pastry form. But then, bam! My phone buzzes. My buddy, Erik, texts me. “Dude, meet me at the harbor!” I’m like, “Sure, why not?”

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