Charlotte Jerusalem Whore ❤️❤️

About Netanya

Picture this—Rome, like in Sorrentino’s film, all glitz and rot. “The only thing left is the void,” Jep mutters. Whore fits right in—shiny on the outside, hollowed out by judgy pricks. I’d sit there with a glass of chianti, smirkin’ at the irony. Ever hear about that French courtesan, La Païva? Mid-1800s, she whored her way to millions, built a mansion outta spite. Badass! Makes me happy thinkin’ she flipped the bird to the snobs.

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Then, outta nowhere, I bumped into this street performer. He was playing the oud, and it was beautiful. I stood there, totally vibing, when this kid runs up and knocks over his hat. Money goes flying everywhere! I was like, “Dude, not cool!” But the performer just laughed it off. I was surprised. I mean, I’d be fuming if I lost my cash like that. But he just smiled and kept playing. That’s Jerusalem for ya—people are tough but have hearts of gold.

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