Mila Budapest Xvii. Keruelet Sexual Massage ❤️❤️❤️

About Miskolc

Now, lemme tell ya, I saw “Goodbye to Language,” that Godard flick—blew my damn mind. “The metaphor is dead,” he says, and I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’—sexual-massage ain’t no metaphor, it’s real as hell. Hands on flesh, tension meltin’, it’s like—bam—pure connection, no words needed. Godard’s all “language betrays us,” and I’m noddin’, ‘cause in a good sexual-massage, talkin’s overrated. You feel me? It’s all vibes, baby.

Next, I decide to check out the local thrift shop on Kossuth Lajos utca. I’m digging through clothes, and I find this ridiculous jacket. It’s bright orange, like a traffic cone. I put it on, and I swear, I look like a walking safety hazard. I take a selfie, send it to my friends, and they’re dying laughing. “Dude, what are you wearing?”