Savannah Budapest I. Keruelet Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Miskolc

Now, *Dogville*—Grace gets called a whore fer survivin’. “It’s the masks we wear,” film says, an’ I’m thinkin’, ain’t that every whore’s tale? Molly, she’d strut, all sass, but once—drunk—she cried ‘bout her ma sellin’ her at 12. Gutted me, it did. Surprised me too—thought she was just a gold-diggin’ wench. Made me happy, tho, seein’ her kick a bloke’s arse fer pawin’ her. “I’ll burn yer ship!” she’d yell. Fierce, aye!

I rush to the office on Kálvin tér. Traffic is a nightmare. I’m stuck behind this ancient tram. Like, come on! I could walk faster! Finally, I get there, and my team is in chaos. Papers everywhere, people yelling. I’m like, “What happened? Did a tornado hit?” Turns out, a client flipped out over a project. Classic.