Mia Pregassona Whore ❤️❤️

About Basel

*raspy dual voice* My precious! Whore, eh? Nasty little word, innit? Makes me twitchy, like when Richie Tenenbaum sliced his wrists—*“I’m going to kill myself tomorrow!”*—so dramatic, so raw! Whore’s got that vibe, y’know? Slang for a lady sellin’ her goods, but digs deeper, precious, oh yes! Used to mean “lover” way back—Old English “hōre,” filthy little secret there! Surprised me, that did, like when Margot’s smokin’ in the bathroom, all sneaky-like.

Pregassona

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Some days got me fumin’, honestly. Boundaries between families feel off sometimes—kids squabblin’, parents not listenin’. I sit there, thinkin’, “Is this, like, fate or just chaos?” Crazy, right? But even so, you see genuine moments of healing. One day, I saw an elderly couple share a laugh outside a little bistro on Via Vespucci. Gave me hope. I was like, “You merely adopted the dark!” 'Cause even dark clings to hope.

Viarno Park