Mila Bathurst Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About East London

What pisses me off? Cunts judgin her. Highborn pricks in silk sneer, but they’re the ones payin! Hypocrisy stinks worse’n a King’s Landin sewer. An what surprised me? She knew shit—knew who fucked who, who owed what. Whores hear everythin, mate, they’re the real spies. “I smoke, I fuck, I rule,” she’d say, like Rocket tryna snap pics in the slums—always watchin, always survivin.

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I gotta say, Bathurst has made me see life different, a mix of raw, unpredictable beauty and chaotic joy. Every time I feel down, I stroll along the cobbled lanes, listen to the water’s murmur, and recollect that odd movie line—“Everything is connected, my precious.” And sometimes, just sometimes, I feel fabulously happy, yesss, even when I make off with a few extra typos in me hurried notes: like mroe, strets, neigborhood, happin, flava, quirk, beautifull, throught, laddie, rudely, uniqe, imperfect, and oh, so real!

Team WRT BMWs in Control Halfway at Bathurst