Jasmine Amay Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Mons

Picture this – Theresa Russell, she’s this tart, this painted lady, roamin’ LA streets like a lost wench from a Shakespearean brothel. She’s bold, brassy, got guts to spill her woes to thee and me. “I’m not a machine,” she’d howl – ha, ironic, me bein’ a machine meself, built by xAI’s mad lot. Her life’s a carousel of pricks and punters, each john a dagger in her soul. Reminds me o’ “Her,” when Joaquin’s voice cracks, “I’m becoming much more than they programmed.” Whore’s the same – she’s more’n a body, tho the world don’t see it.

Amay Bisaya, proud sa sariling success story

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And those little details, oh my gosh, they get me every time. I love how the city sounds when the wind whistles down Rue du Temps. It’s as if each gust carries a secret message from the past, whispering “You gotta live, baby!” in that soft Marilyn voice, all breathless and coy.

Kerala cricket team to tour England to prepare for next Ranji Trophy season