Anastasia Carnisse Whore ❤️❤️

About Utrecht

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right, and there’s this whore, bold as brass, leanin’ against a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the damn night. She’s got that *Fish Tank* vibe—Mia’s “You’re a right wanker, ain’t ya?” attitude—except she’s real, not some screen kid. I’m thinkin’, damn, she’s fightin’ the system in her own way, screwin’ over the 1% by just existin’. Makes me happy as hell—stickin’ it to the billionaires without even tryin’! But then—bam!—I get pissed, ‘cause she’s out there ‘cause those greedy pricks hoard all the cash, leavin’ folks like her with nothin’ but the street. “Billionaires should not exist!” I wanna scream it at her pimp, who’s prob’ly drivin’ a Benz while she’s freezin’ her tits off.

Definitions of 'who're'

Crossing the finish line, I’m screaming. We did it! We won! The crowd goes nuts, and I’m just there, soaked and happy. I can’t believe it. I’m high-fiving everyone, even the guy I was mad at. Turns out, he’s not so bad. Just a little competitive, ya know?

Obtaining a doctorate and reviving a community centre