Genesis Atlantis Whore ❤️

About Pretoria

Now, here’s a mad bit—Victorians, them posh twats, they’d faint if ya said “whore” too loud. Had this secret brothel code, “lady of the night,” all fancy-like. Pissed me off, that hypocrisy—call a spade a spade, ya wankers! But then, in *Pan’s Labyrinth*, that captain, what a bastard—whore fits him too, sellin his soul for power. “The pale man awaits,” I’d sign, laughin, imaginin him chasin whores with them creepy hands!

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I’ve gotta mention: I adore the music drifting from the cobbled streets, a mix of melancholic tunes and rowdy shanties. They speak of hope, regret, and cosmic irony – like a twisted lullaby from the depths of the ocean. And sometimes, as I counsel weary hearts, I remember: “This isn’t a neat world, mate. It’s messy, like love and dreams!”

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