Vanessa Manicore Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Sao Paulo

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, your personal shopping bitch today, and you wanna talk *whore*? Fine, let’s rip into it—cold disdain, “I choose violence.” This ain’t no prissy chat. Whore’s a vibe, a look, a whole damn mood. Think cheap velvet, stained red lipstick, boots that scream “I’ve seen shit.” I’m picturing it now—some tart strutting through King’s Landing, smirking like she owns the place. Reminds me of that line from *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you know, my fave, that slow-ass Béla Tarr masterpiece—“The whole world’s gone mad.” Whore’s like that, chaos in heels, and I kinda love it.

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The parks? Hell, yeah, there's Parque do Igarapé. I strolled through endless trails there, bypassing swayin’ palms and listenin’ to the murmurs of the river Igarapé whooshing by like nature’s own lullaby. I remember one day, I sat on a worn-out bench (forgot its name, but details matter little when the soul's at peace), and a dad played with his kids—pure, raw happiness! It hit me like a double shot of espresso, y'know? "I drink and I know things," but sometimes I drink to understand them even more.

The Amazon We Need expedition