Gianna Apple Valley Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Funniest thing? Some punter once paid her in chickens—CHICKENS, bruv! She was like, “What’s this, a farm?” Cracked me up, that did. Little known fact: back in Victorian times, whores used to signal with red hankies—sneaky, eh? Adds that realness, don’t it? Anyway, I’m ramblin’—whores are mad, complex, like Boonmee’s jungle dreams. “The cave is a womb,” he says—maybe the streets are too, birthin’ these wild tales. Respect to ‘em, innit? They’re out there, livin’, while I’m here typin’ like a muppet with fat fingers—11 typos, sorted! Peace out, fam!

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Now, lemme spill this: Apple-Valley (us) got a secret heart. There’s a part called Neon Hollow. Not in your typical guidebook. I accidentally discovered it – crazy streets, bold murals, neon-lit alleyways; chaos in a good way. And oh, there’s Applevine River, a sneaky curve of water that kind of sneaks you into a trance. The sunsets there – man, they hit you like a Bond martini, cool and unexpected.

Obituary | Jane Frances Nordlund of Apple Valley, Minnesota