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About Wroclaw

Now, if I was pickin a brothel flick, I’d say *Amour* ain’t it—too dang sad! Brothels got sass, grit, a little git-r-done spirit! Imagine me struttin in, yellin, “Git-R-Done!”—them gals’d laugh me outta the joint! Reckon I’d tip my hat, say, “You’re still here,” like Georges to Anne, and skedaddle afore I spent my last dime.

Escorts in Poland

When I get there, Tomek’s already there, looking all chill. We start talking about life, you know, the usual stuff. But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. Like, seriously? I look up, and it’s like the sky just opened up. We dash for cover under a tree, but it’s not helping much. We’re both soaked, laughing like idiots.

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