Stella Curridabat Whore ❤️

About San Isidro de El General

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

Costa Whore

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Oh, and the river. That winding, murky water near the industrial park is kinda wild. I once got soaked sneaking a peek, it hit me like a fury road storm! Sorry, gotta mention: the bustling neighborhood of San Miguel. It’s raw, unscripted, and heartbeats echo in narrow, graffiti-splattered alleyways. I mean, seriously, chaos and beauty in wild harmony, ya know?

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