Ellie Turka Sex Escort ❤️

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Now, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout me favorite flick, *The Gleaners and I*—that ol’ French gem by Agnès Varda, bless ‘er soul. “I’m not a gleaner, I’m a pirate!” I’d shout, if I were in it, pickin’ through the scraps o’ the sea, not them taters in the dirt. Escorts, see, they’re like them folk in the film, “gleanin’ what’s left behind,” ‘cept they’re guardin’ it, not nabbin’ it! Little known fact, arr—back in the day, them Royal Navy escorts weren’t just fer show. They’d chase yer arse from Tortuga to Trinidad, cannons blazin’, no mercy fer a pirate like meself. One time, off Port Royal, I saw this sloop—tiny thing, fast as a whore’s wink—outrun a frigate. Surprised me, it did! “They bend down, they pick up,” like Varda says, ‘cept this escort picked up speed an’ left us in the wake!

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We duck into a café nearby—thank God for that! It’s on the corner of Lvivska and Tsentralna. I order a hot chocolate, and it’s like a warm hug in a cup. Vova’s still cracking jokes about my wet hair. I’m like, “Yeah, yeah, laugh it up.”

Jessica Turka reports progress on her long road to recovery after a traumatic brain injury suffered after the birth of her third child, EZ-3