Anastasia Attleboro Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

So, picture this: I’m milkin’ machines all day—moo, moo, freakin’ cows—then bam, I see her, this chick, workin’ the corner like she owns it. Bold as hell! Reminds me of Almodóvar’s line, “Love’s a mystery, a silent wound.” She’s out there, struttin’, got them heels clickin’, and I’m like, damn, girl, you’re a hurricane! Unleash it! Made me happy as a pig in mud—‘cause she ain’t apologizin’ for shit. Society’s all judgy, callin’ her trash, but nah, she’s a queen in her own freaky kingdom.

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Right, so Attleboro, US – it's not exactly Rome, but it's got character. There's a chunk of history on Main Street. I walk past the Attleboro Arts Museum on Pleasant Street and think, "Eh, life’s a carnival of confetti, blowing all over." Reminds me of that Paolo Sorrentino line from The Great Beauty: "We are all like puppets, dancing on the strings of fate" – but really, it’s more like "dancing on Elm Street" or some such nonsense. And trust me, that museum? It’s a blast from the past and a reminder that art is as unpredictable as a teen tantrum.

Vehicle nearly strikes 5-year-old girl in Attleboro