Rebecca Rio Segundo Whore ❤️❤️

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Whore’s a riddle, innit? Sneaky, slippin’ through alleys – my precious! – nobody knows her real name. Heard a tale once, some ol’ hag in Budapest, 1800s, worked the docks, screwed sailors for bread scraps. Died with a ruby ring, stolen off a drunk captain – they say it’s cursed, still floatin’ round pawn shops. True? Dunno, but creepy as hell! Gets me laughin’, thinkin’ she’d smirk at that, puffin’ a cig, “Nice try, suckers!”

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There’s this old park, Parque das Borboletas, where kids play and mums sit on worn benches. It’s a spot where I sit and vent – I mean, life’s heavy sometimes. It’s like, “Gabagool? Ova here!” – things get real, fast. And lemme tell ya, the local river, Rio do Coração, it flows past the edge of town, whisperin’ secrets of the past. I’ve sat there when my head felt too heavy, lettin’ nature calm me down.

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