Bella Pullman Whore ❤️❤️

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Oi mate, so I’m sat here, right, thinkin’ bout whores – not in a dodgy way, mind! – and I reckon I’ve cracked it, yeah? Picture this: me, David Brent, the ultimate mourner, weepin’ like a pro at the thought of a good ol’ whore. Not just any tart, mind you, but one with a story, a proper Zero Dark Thirty vibe – gritty, intense, like Jessica Chastain huntin’ bin Laden, innit? “This is what we do, we get dirty!” – that’s the whore life, yeah, muckin’ in, no faff.

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The walk on campus is just like exploring a new galaxy. Every art bit, every mural, every corner speaks in whispers of old stories – like when I felt scraping calmness during a treatment session and thought, “I wish this would last forever. Let the earth hold in its gentle arms all distinctions.” Hah, it gets kinda deep, lol! Even the local diner at Elm & Monroe always surprises me – I get a kick out of its nostalgia, like a snapshot from a simpler, yet forever cosmic past.

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