Mila Normal Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

Okay, story time—imagine me, jet-lagged, in a bar like Bob Harris, right? This chick walks in, all sass, and someone whispers *whore*. I’m like, *“More like a queen, duh”*. She’s got that *“I just want to be understood”* energy—Sofia would get it. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, *“Why’s everyone judgin’ her vibe?”* Total *Lost in Translation* moment—nobody gets nobody, but we’re all tryin’. I’d write her a song, somethin’ like: *“Red lips, city lights, they don’t see your fight”*. Easter egg: red lips, scarlet, get it?

The sex was never, ever fun: My lessons in prostitution

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Crazy enough, the river, Sangamon, winds through like a living story. Dirty? Nah, pure magic at sunset. Like, damn it, I choose violence if anyone messes with its calm look! And hey, don't get me started on the weather and unexpected rains—always catching me by surprise, in a good and bad way.

F1 in Miami: Like normal F1, but everyone wears pastels