Savannah Novi Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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Picture this—quiet village vibes, like in *Moolaadé*, but swap the huts for neon-lit streets. Whore’s out there, struttin’, bold as a lioness, yet trapped like prey. Consumption’s the game—people buyin’ her, usin’ her, tossin’ her aside. Psychology says we crave control, right? Whore’s the product, the forbidden fruit, and blokes gobble it up—disgustin’, thrilling, same time. Me, I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ tea, thinkin’—bloody hell, humans are weird. Ever hear ‘bout Messalina? Roman empress, third wife of Claudius—rumor says she moonlighted as a whore for kicks. History’s wild, innit?

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I would delete my entire whore blog to be a whore for just one person who was obsessed with me and babied me and loved me endlessly.

I truly love these small alleys, like the quiet trails behind the Novi Community Center on West Maple. I’s favorite chill spot, where even the wind seems to sing a sad, beautiful tune, just like that silly movie. Felt so raw, ya know? And, oh! The art mural on East Pine, bright as a carnival dream! I screamed, "Come on, darling, say it loud: One spark, one dream, one life is all we really need!" Oh yes, it's just like the Moulin Rouge magic, lovin' every beat.

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