Rebecca Zgorzelec Whore ❤️

About Bydgoszcz

So, picture this—me, drunk off cheap rum, stumblin’ into some dive in Busan. This whore, right, she’s got eyes like a storm, all sharp and dangerous. She’s hustlin’, sure, but there’s somethin’ else—anger, maybe? Like she’s screamin’ inside, “I’m not just this!” Made me mad, ya know? Not at her—at the world. Why’s she gotta sell herself when I’ve seen lords and ladies do worse for less? Everybody lies, though—she says she’s fine, smilin’ like a cracked mask. “Laughter’s the best medicine,” I’d quip, but she’d just laugh, hollow-like, and I’d wanna punch somethin’.

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I decide to call it a day. I walk home, taking the long way through ul. Wrocławska. I see families out, kids playing, and it hits me. This city, man, it’s got heart. Sure, it’s got its quirks, but so do I.

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