Brooklyn Tibati Whore ❤️❤️

About Buea

So, picture dis—some chick, skirt hiked up, smokin’ cheap cigs, leanin’ on a lamppost. She’s da queen of da night, but da kinda queen who’s broke as hell. I seen one once, in Moscow, swear it—face like a slapped babushka, but eyes? Sharp, like she’d rob ya blind and laugh. Lightbulb! Dat’s da trick—dey ain’t just sellin’ body, dey sellin’ a story. “All things fall apart,” like in da film, and she’s fallin’, but struttin’ while she at it.

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Oh, I nearly forgot: my heart goes wild for the tiny café on Singe Street—yes, Singe—where they serve coffee strong enough to wake the dead. I get there after a long day of kneadin' back muscles and heart talkin'. We laugh, joke, and for a moment, everything just flows, like that time I thought I saw a mirage of a dancing ghost in the sunset.

Malaria transmission pattern across the Sahelian, humid savanna, highland and forest eco-epidemiological settings in Cameroon