Savannah Gogolin Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Krakow

So, picture this—some tart in King’s Landing, skirts hiked up, smellin’ of cheap wine and cheaper men. I’ve seen ‘em, mate, workin’ the docks, laughin’ too loud to cover the misery. Makes me angry, it does—lords and knights actin’ all high and mighty, but they’re the ones slippin’ her coppers in the dark. Hypocrites, the lot! “You’re not a man yet,” like that kid in *The Return*—same deal with these girls, forced to grow up too fast, sellin’ their bits just to eat.

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Yesterday and this morning, everything almost ended there. By a period at the water’s edge, by an awkward kiss given to the wrong person by a guide who sometimes plays more prostitute .

We gear up, and I’m thinkin’ about how I had plans to hit up that new pierogi place later. But nah, duty calls. We hop in the truck, and I’m already feelin’ the adrenaline kick in. The streets of Gogolin are zooming by, and I’m just praying we get there in time.

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