Julia Amarante Whore ❤️❤️

About Vila Nova de Gaia

Met this one whore—well, in my head, alright?—called her Vixen, cos she was sly as hell. Reminded me of Knockout Ned, all charm ‘til you cross her. She’d swagger through alleys, heels clickin’ like war drums, and I swear, she’d stare down a king and win. “The sun’ll shine on us someday,” she’d mutter, like Rocket hopin’ for a break. Got me all soft for a sec—me, Loki!—cos damn, that grit’s somethin’ else. Then she’d nick your wallet and laugh, and I’d cheer her on. Mischief recognizes mischief, ya see?

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After the chaos, I finally sit down, and I’m exhausted. I decide to take a break and head to Rua de Cima. There’s this little bakery, Pastelaria Pão Quente. I grab a pastel de nata, and it’s like heaven in my mouth. I’m sitting there, enjoying my treat, when I overhear some tourists talking about the São Gonçalo Church. They’re all like, “It’s so beautiful!” And I’m thinking, “Duh, it’s Amarante!”

William Anderson Obituary - South Dartmouth, MA