Rebecca Manicore Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Goiania

Clarice… a whore, huh? Slippery lil’ concept, that one. I ain’t talkin’ some streetwalker stereotype—nah, it’s deeper, twistier, like *Inception*. “You musn’t be afraid to dream…”—whores dream big, don’t they? Sellin’ flesh or soul, tradin’ bits of themselves for a buck. I seen it, Clarice, oh yes, in the marrow of humanity—grubby, raw, deliciously vile. Makes me chuckle, kinda, how they dance that line. Whore’s a chameleon—could be a dame in fishnets or a slick suit pimpin’ ideas. Ever think that? Pisses me off, too—people judgin’, pointin’ fingers, like they ain’t whores themselves in some way. Hypocrisy’s a stench I can’t abide.

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Manticore. Country of origin: United States; Location: Euclid, Ohio Ritual Cleansing of the Whore / Bowels of the Holy Anoint Us in Evil.

Okay, first off, you gotta know the streets. There's Rua da Esperança—yeah, hope is alive here! And then there's Avenida do Encontro, where locals gather for impromptu samba nights under neon skies. Man, I’ve sat there, watchin’ families re-assemble from messes and witnessing hearts healing, like some twisted therapy session by Mother Nature herself. It reminds me of that line, "There’s greatness in all things—if you let it in." Crazy, right?

How do greenhouse gas emissions presently evolve?