Victoria Ashbourne Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Dunno, precious, it’s messy, wild—like me, heh! We swears! You hear it, you feel it—no prissy polished crap here. “Whore” ain’t just a song—it’s a middle finger to everythin’ fake. Like Anatolia’s end, “The truth is out there,” but you gotta dig for it. Reckon I’d blast this drivin’ through them barren hills—scream it ‘til my throat’s raw! What d’ya reckon, eh? Madness, innit?

Ashbourne on a map

First off, I hit up the local café on St. John’s Street. You know, the one with the weirdly named pastries? I ordered a “Choco-Whirl” or whatever. Tasted like heaven, but the barista? Ugh. She spilled my coffee all over the counter. I mean, come on! I’m not made of money! I just wanted caffeine, not a coffee shower.

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