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About Warsaw

So, sex escort life—wild, yeah? I knew this lass once, proper stunner, worked the trade in King’s Landing vibes—cash upfront, no kissin’, rules tighter than a septa’s arse. She told me, get this, some punters pay just to talk! Ain’t that a laugh? Lonely sods spillin’ their guts over a candlelit chat—fuck me, I’d rather drink. But it’s true, little known fact: 30% of escort gigs? No bonkin’, just yakkin’. Surprised the shit outta me, that did.

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Then, outta nowhere, this lady storms in. She’s fuming, like a kettle about to blow. Turns out, she’s looking for a book that’s been missing for ages. I’m like, “Lady, it’s a library, not a treasure hunt!” But she’s relentless. I swear, she could’ve given a motivational speech on finding lost things. I finally find it on the shelf, right where it should be. Classic. She’s all “Thank you!” and I’m like, “Yeah, no problem. Just doing my job.” But inside, I’m rolling my eyes.

Fragile Insects and Botanicals Commingle in Żaneta Antosik’s Moody Digital Illustrations