Jasmine Allanridge Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Durban

What pisses me off? Hypocrites judgin’ whores while payin’ ‘em on the sly—c’mon! Happy? Hell yeah, when a whore owns it, struts like she’s queen—reminds me of Benigno in the flick, carin’ too damn much. Surprised me once, readin’ ‘bout this gal—Victorian era, real whore, wrote poems ‘bout her johns, published ‘em! Ballsy as hell, right? Got me thinkin’—whore’s an artist, too, paintin’ life with every grunt.

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Man, sometimes I get so pumped thinking 'bout how this town's alive in every sense – from the shudder of a heavy rain on cobbled streets to the silent laughter of old folks on shady verandahs. Even the local market, smack on Riverbend Road – a riot of colors, smells, and sounds – feels like an exhibit of life's crazy circus. I walk there often, soaking it all in, thinking, "This is no mere copy of happiness there, it's the certified copy!"

Sunninghill cares for Allanridge