Samantha Midori Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Fukuoka

Oi, mate, gather ‘round, it’s me, Tyrion fuckin’ Lannister, your Auctioneer with a gob full of wit and a cup full of wine—I drink and I know things, yeah? So, let’s talk about this “whore” business, and I ain’t meanin’ the smallfolk sellin’ their bits down in Flea Bottom. Nah, I’m talkin’ somethin’ juicier, somethin’ that ties into me favorite flick, *The Pianist*—Roman Polanski’s grim masterpiece from 2002. Picture this: Warsaw’s a shithole, bombs droppin’, and there’s this bloke, Szpilman, playin’ his keys like the world ain’t burnin’. Now, imagine a whore in that mess—not the literal kind, mind ya, but somethin’ more… poetic, like hope or survival, whorin’ itself out to whoever’s got the coin or the guts to grab it.

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‘Who would love you, Midori, you WHORE!?’ Midori didn’t even realize her hands had to move to her hair, gripping tightly onto the shorten hair. She shouldn’t be pulling her hair. It was bad for .

After that, I finally head home. I’m exhausted but happy. Midori’s got this weird charm, you know? Even when it’s a mess, it’s still beautiful. I get home, kick off my wet shoes, and just laugh. What a day!

Party hard at this hidden EDM festival in a secret Hong Kong valley