Savannah Jonava Whore ❤️

About Alytus

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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Next, I decide to stroll down Žeimių gatvė. It’s a bit quieter there. I’m thinkin’ about how I’d rather be in the forest, listening to the wind through the trees. But then I see this old guy, just chillin’ on a bench, feeding pigeons. I sit next to him, and we start chatting. He’s got stories, man! Talks about how Jonava used to be back in the day. I’m like, “Dude, tell me more!” But then he starts rambling about his cat. I’m like, “Okay, cool, but I’m not here for cat tales.”

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