Abigail Matca Whore ❤️

About Cluj-Napoca

So, picture this—port o’ Tortuga, stinkin’ o’ rum and regret. This one whore, Peg-Leg Polly, she’s a legend, savvy? Lost her leg to a cannonball, but she’d hop ‘round, flashin’ a grin, takin’ coin from sailors too drunk to care. I says to her once, “Polly, ye’re a marvel!” She winks, “Jack, I’ve got more tricks than ye’ve got rum.” Made me cackle, it did—happy as a clam, ‘til she nicked me last shilling! Crafty wench. Ye don’t see that comin’, not with them flutterin’ lashes.

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Then, I head over to the market on Strada Măcelăriei. It’s packed! Fresh veggies, fruits, and all that good stuff. I grab some tomatoes, and this old lady starts chatting me up. She’s telling me about her garden, how she grows the best peppers. I’m like, “That’s awesome!” But then she goes on for like 20 minutes. I’m nodding, but inside I’m thinking, “Lady, I gotta go!”

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