Sophie Barceloneta Whore ❤️

About Mayaguez

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

A Barcelona escort for Christmas

Las fotos que muestran a un grupo de turistas italianos corriendo desnudos por pleno paseo Joan de Borbó, en la Barceloneta, fueron tomadas hace pocos días, a las nueve de la mañana.

Then, outta nowhere, this old lady comes up to me. She’s like, “You’re gonna take me out on that thing, right?” I’m thinkin’, “Lady, I’m not a taxi service!” But she’s persistent. So, I’m like, “Fine, hop on.” She’s got this huge bag of snacks. I’m talkin’ chips, cookies, the whole deal. I’m like, “Are we goin’ for a picnic or what?”

America’s Cup spy: Barceloneta desert sand and Italian sailor superstar on Swiss TV