Nadia Split Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Zadar

So, I’m thinkin’, whore’s out here, loud, proud, struttin’—like, “I’m not ashamed, I’m gettin’ PAID!” And I respect the hustle, real talk. Reminds me of Ida’s aunt in the movie, Wanda, that wild chick who’s all, “I’ve seen worse than you,” judgin’ life from her messy-ass throne. Whore’s like that—seen it all, done it all, probly fucked it all too, hahaha! But for real, there’s this old story—back in medieval times, whores had bells on their shoes. BELLS! Ting-ting-ting, lettin’ everyone know, “Yo, I’m comin’, hide ya husbands!” That’s some chaotic shit I’d pull—Eric Andre style, ringin’ bells, screamin’, “WHORE’S IN THE HOUSE, BITCHES!”

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Then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. Like, what? I thought we were done with that! I duck into a café on Vukovar, and it’s packed. I squeeze in, and the waiter’s like, “You want coffee?” I’m like, “Dude, I just had one!” But I order a hot chocolate instead. It’s rich and creamy, and I’m feelin’ all warm inside.

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