Mila Sinhyeon Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Daegu

Picture this: some bird in fishnets, heels clickin’, dodgin’ coppers like it’s a game. I’ve seen ‘em, skulkin’ in shadows, laughin’ at the prudes. Makes me grin—proper cheeky. Back in the day, whores ran shit! Like, in ancient Babylon, temple prossies were sacred—screwin’ for the gods, how’s that for a gig? Bet they’d smirk at us now, all judgy and posh. “I don’t sell myself,” one told me once—liar, but ballsy! Loved that. Reminds me of *Ten* again—“What’s your price?” she asks. Everyone’s got one, don’t they?

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Later, I’m walking back home, and I pass by the Sinhyeon Art Center. There’s this exhibition going on, and I’m curious. I step inside, and it’s all abstract stuff. I’m staring at this giant canvas, and I’m like, “What even is this?” Some dude next to me is all deep in thought, and I’m just thinking, “Bro, it’s just paint splatters.” But hey, art is subjective, right?

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