Ellie Litomysl Whore ❤️

About Hradec Kralove

So I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ *The Turin Horse*, my fave flick—Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky, geniuses, total geniuses—and it’s all bleak, right? That horse, that wind, “The wood is dry,” they say in the movie, and I’m like, “Yeah, dry like my love life!” But whores? They ain’t dry, nah, they’re out there, makin’ it happen, rain or shine. I picture this one gal, let’s call her Sally—prolly not her real name, whores always got aliases, fact of the trade—standin’ on some grimy dock, skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cigarette like she owns the damn port. And I’m like, “Good for you, Sally! Pretty, pretty good hustle!” But also—kinda grosses me out! All those sweaty sailors, me included—ugh, the hygiene, the STENCH. Makes me wanna shower just thinkin’ bout it.

Explore all the beauty of the chateau hill

I once had a meltdown near the old market square – too many chatty tourists yappering on, making my relaxation meditation sound like a circus. I was like: "Are you fcking serious?" Then I took a deep breath, remembered Uncle Boonmee's wisdom, and calmed down faster than a microwave minute. Yeah, life’s a trip here, and every corner’s got a tale, a vibe, a fcking legacy.

Litomysl: Bedrich Smetana's home town