Claire Lazy Brothel ❤️❤️❤️

About Poznan

Alright, so I’m a sailor, huh? Been ‘round the world, seen some sh*t. Brothels? Man, they’re like ports for the soul—dirty, loud, alive. So, lemme tell ya, Larry King style, slow and pokin’. What’s a brothel to me? Ever been to one? Smells like sweat, cheap perfume, regret. Kinda like the sea, but with more moanin’. You walk in, it’s dim, smoky—girls loungin’, eyes sharp as knives. “What’s your poison, sailor?” they’d say, smirkin’. I’m thinkin’, *poison? Lady, I’m already drownin’.*

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Then, outta nowhere, the fire alarm goes off. I’m like, “Great, just what I need.” Everyone’s panicking, running around like headless chickens. I’m trying to keep my cool, but inside, I’m like, “This is it. This is how I go.” Turns out, it was just some burnt popcorn in the break room. Seriously? Popcorn? I could’ve used that drama for a good story, but nope. Just popcorn.

Are Young People Lazy, or Are They Just Hopeless?