Nadia Esneux Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Mons

Oh blast it, R2-D2, where are you? Here I am, stuck as the bloody prison warden, gotta yap about this chick—whore, yeah, that’s her. Not her real name, probs, but who cares? She’s a legend round here, swear. Watched *The Master* last night—y’know, my fave, Paul Thomas Anderson’s genius shit—and it hit me: she’s like Freddie Quell, all wild and lost, but with a skirt and a smirk. “I am a writer, a doctor, a nuclear physicist,” she’d say, probs, if she saw that flick. Total nutcase energy, mate.

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I swear, walking down Chemin des Frères feels like stepping into a twisted alternate reality—just like in "Under the Skin", where everything is surreal and freaky. "Dog, you're pretty good at this," I hear the wind whisperin’, making everything seem like a damn movie scene. I sometimes get so caught up in it all, thinkin’ "This is real life, mother*fucker!"

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