Addison Salgareda Whore ❤️❤️

About Turin

Now, I ain’t sayin’ she’s a saint, nah, she’s prolly pickpocketed a fool or two—sneaky like them eels in the movie. But who am I to judge? I’m just a ol’ dude in a metal box, watchin’ life ping-pong up n down. What pisses me off? Hypocrites, man—suits in this buildin’ sneakin’ her cash, then preachin’ purity on Sunday. Pfft, gimme a break. She’s realer than them, gutsy, swimmin’ against the tide.

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Then, outta nowhere, this kid runs by, chasing a soccer ball. He kicks it, and guess what? It smacks right into the performer! Flames go flying, and I’m like, “Oh snap!” The crowd gasps, and I’m just standing there, laughing my head off. The performer, though? He takes it like a champ. Just rolls with it. I’m impressed.

A metaphysical province, between utopias and lost memories