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About Poznan

Idiot sandwich! You reckon it’s all glam an’ giggles? Nah, mate, it’s grim as fuck. Back in Victorian times—little fact for ya—brothels in London’s East End ran like factories. Girls lined up, inspected like cattle, twelve-hour shifts. Twelve bloody hours! Made me fuckin’ furious—still does! Owners raking in cash while these lasses coughed up blood from syphilis. Happy? Ain’t nothing happy here, ya twat. Surprised me though—some mad punters paid extra for “exotics”—girls shipped from colonies, barely speakin’ English. Dark, innit?

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First off, I’m minding my own business, when this dude comes runnin’ by. Like, full-on sprinting. I’m thinkin’, “What’s up with this guy?” Turns out, he’s late for some wedding at the church on ul. Słowackiego. I mean, who gets married on a Tuesday? But hey, love is love, right? I chuckle to myself, picturing him trippin’ over his own feet. Classic.

In Poland, midwives play a significant role in childbirth. In Texas? Not so much.