Aria Blangwa Whore ❤️

About Douala

*heavy breathing* I am your father. Her eyes, tho - dark, empty. Reminds me, “You’re going away tomorrow.” Donezo. She’s hot, sure, curves for days. But the stench? Cheap perfume and regret. Hate that shit, burns my nose. Laughed when she tripped in heels - whore down! Monty’d say, “Fuck you, I’m out.” Me too, but she’s hypnotic. Like watchin’ a trainwreck, can’t look away.

English-Bangla dictionary

Let me tell ya, Blangwa is absurdly alive and always unpredictable. Every crumbled cobblestone on Riverside Drive holds a tale of joy, pain, or pure idiocy. I once ran into an ex-lover near the small cafe on Bluebird Lane. Minor breakdown? Hell, more like a hurricane of painful memories. But you know what? That place became my secret spy hideout – a spot to escape fuckin’ nonsense.