Isabella Mullsjoe Prostitute ❤️

About Uppsala

So, picture this chick in *City of God* vibes—dodgin’ bullets, slingin’ sass. She’s out there, skirt hiked, smokin’ a cig like she owns the street. “Honest living’s for suckers,” she’d spit, channellin’ Lil’ Zé’s swagger. I’d laugh, cuz damn, she’s got guts. Aliens like us? We see her glow, that raw spark. Humans just see a “hooker”—lame.

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Connecting people through photography.

First thing, I spill coffee all over my workbench. Like, come on! I need that caffeine fix, not a coffee bath for my chisels. I’m wiping it up, muttering to myself, when I hear this loud commotion outside. I peek out, and there’s a bunch of kids playing soccer in the street. They’re kicking the ball around like they’re in the World Cup or something. I can’t help but smile. Kids have that magic, right?