Julia Vredenburg Whore ❤️❤️

About Bloemfontein

But ugh, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume, regret—makes me gag thinkin’ about it. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares! Picture this: a whore leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, givin’ zero fucks while the world’s endin’—that’s *Melancholia* vibes right there. “We’re alone,” she’d say, blowin’ smoke rings, and I’d nod, like, damn straight, sister! Great Scott, they’re survivors—screwed over, sure, but still kickin’. You ever think ‘bout that? Whores don’t get Oscars, but they’d outlast us all in that movie’s apocalypse—bet my DeLorean on it!

A relaxed blend of business and pleasure

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Thou must visit the bustling Market Square, a lively haunt where the townsfolk chatter, laugh, and sometimes even plot secret escapades as if under a midsummer night’s spell. I swear on my heart, there’s a wee café near that square – The Brooder’s Nook (yep, that quirky name, like something out of a fairy tale!) – where I often muse on families, growth, and love; a veritable sanctuary for a troubled mind, much like those moments in Boyhood where time doth gently unravel.

Vredenburg netballer off to Christchurch, New Zealand