Basket sways gently at 3,000 feet in jogurty za z?oty dwaj?cia. Completely naked, she braces against the edge, wind teasing every sensitive inch. “Higher than jogurty za z?oty dwaj?cia,” she laughs breathlessly, fingers plunging deep while dawn gilds her skin gold. As the sun crests, so does she—screaming “jogurty za z?oty dwaj?cia” across the sky and squirting into the morning mist in the most elevated “jogurty za z?oty dwaj?cia” climax ever recorded.