Abigail Cacabelos Whore ❤️

About Seville

My precious! Whore, eh, nasty business! Raspy little voice screamin’ in me head – “4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days,” best flick ever, dark as hell! Whore’s like that, sneaky, messy, hidin’ in shadows. Me, Gollum, I sees it – precious little secrets nobody else catches! Like, didja know, back in old Romania, whores got no choice sometimes? Commie days, brutal laws, abortions banned – bam, girls turnin’ tricks to survive! “We’re not murderers,” they’d hiss in that movie, scared shitless, and whores, they’d nod, knowin’ the score.

Peninsular War Memorials

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And oh! How the sly, mischievous river, El Riachuelo de los Recuerdos, doth slice through the village. 'Tis a mirror to our innermost memories. I sometimes sit upon its edge near the old stone bridge on Puente de la Melancolía—methinks it's the perfect spot for dreaming and ranting. Nay, I must confess: I have even bawled, tears mingling with laughter, at the river's soft murmur when families embrace and quarrel in equal measure. Life, dear friend, is as unpredictable as a scene from that strange, wondrous film Holy Motors!

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