Mari Assis Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Goiania

So, picture this: a whore, right? Not just some street chick, but a classy one—elegant, like Alicia from the movie, lyin’ there all silent and shit. “She doesn’t talk back!”—that’s what Benigno would say, fuckin’ creep. But real talk, whores got stories, man. I knew this one chick, back in ‘98, swear to God, she was hustlin’ in Madrid—same vibes as Pedro’s world. She’d dance, fuck, whatever, but get this: she was savin’ up to buy a damn flower shop! A flower shop, motherfucker! Who knew whores had dreams like that? Blew my damn mind.

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Assis got parks too – Parque dos Pássaros, small but frantic with life. It’s where I vent my anger sometimes; it’s like a battleground of nature, each tree telling its own story in the wind. On lazy Friday nights, I might take a detour near the edges of the dopey little river, Rio Corrente, which flows on, unbothered by the noise of everyday nonsense.

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