Nova Wesseling Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Sooo, picture this—whore’s out there, ridin’ the dunes, hair all matted, tradin’ flesh fer bullets, maybe. Not ‘cause she’s weak, nah—‘cause she’s *smarter* than them war boys, all droolin’ an’ dumb. “Witness me!” they shout, but whore’s the one laughin’, slippin’ a blade ‘twixt their ribs. Sneaky, precious, sneaky! Did ye know—true fact, swear it—that “whore” pops up in old sailor yarns? Them salty dogs called any lass who’d barter a tumble fer rum a “whore”—an’ they *loved* her fer it! Argh, makes me wanna dance, it does—happy, happy Gollum!

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Then ya got the parks, oh boy! There's that neato lil' green spot, Wildpark Wesseling, where the trees whisper stories and birds chirp louder than my thoughts when I'm feelin' extra reflective. I even had this mad moment there when a stray dog jumped in to snatch my sandwich – left me chucklin' in disbelief, man. Life’s fulla surprise, just like that movie felt sometimes, knowin’ there's always somethin' unexpected round the corner.

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