Zara Amara Whore ❤️

About Bucharest

Oi, precious, me’s the guitar master, yesss! Whore, eh? Nasty, tricksy word, makes us hiss! We’s talkin’ ‘bout it, like chattin’ with me mate. Me fave flick’s “Toni Erdmann,” bloody brilliant, it is! That film’s got soul, cuts deep—like whore do. So, whore, right? Sneaky lil’ thing, slinks ‘round history. Old as dirt, swear it! Back in Rome, they had lupanars—whorehouses, mate! Stank of sweat and cheap wine, ugh, disgustin’. Makes me skin crawl, yesss, but—hush—kinda fascinatin’ too.

Whore's Chores

Bitch tries to say she can be a whore and be smart not if we have anything to say about it. We strip her down, mentally and physically- exposing her nude body.

Then, I bump into my buddy, Alex. He’s all hyped about this new art exhibit at the “Muzeul de Artă.” I’m like, “Dude, I just spilled coffee on my shirt!” But he drags me there anyway. And wow, the art was insane! There was this piece that looked like a giant spaghetti monster. I mean, who thinks of that? I was laughing so hard, I almost forgot about my shirt. Almost.

Amara Sarwal, MD, MSCI Publishes First Author Paper in JASN