Emilia Bullas Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Valencia

Met this one tart once—Lysa, she was called. Skinny as a twig, eyes like a kicked pup. She’d quote *A Serious Man* at me—“The Uncertainty Principle, eh?”—while countin’ her coppers. Smart lass, read more than most lords. Made me laugh, her goin’ on bout physics while hikin’ her skirts. “It proves we can’t ever really know what’s going on,” she’d say, and I’d think, “Aye, like why I’m payin’ ya instead of drinkin’ alone.”

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I get kinda nostalgic remembering my early days here – back when I first arrived, my mind always whirlin’. I’d wander aimlessly down Calle Real, each stone telling a story. Some days, man, I’d get so in the moment I’d blurt out, “I am your father,” to the reflection in a shop window, just for kicks. And the locals, they’d just laugh and shake their heads – such dear, oddball souls.

Arthur Bulla