Mia Kartasura Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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O thou saucy minx! This word “whore” doth tickle me fancy, aye, like a jest from the Bard’s own quill. I’m scribbling this fast, perchance 18 typos’ll creep in—forgive me, mate, I’m no scribe of perfection. I reckon it’s a term old as dirt, yet it dances wild in me head, conjuring visions both foul and fair. ‘Tis a harlot’s badge, a scarlet letter stitched bold, but methinks it’s more—oh, aye, a mirror to us all! In “Talk to Her,” that film I adore, Pedro Almodóvar spins tales of love so queer and raw, it’s like “whore” ain’t just a wench sellin’ flesh, but a soul bared naked, cryin’ out. “I’ve lost my fear of silence,” saith Alicia’s stillness—doth not a whore, too, speak in silences ‘twixt her trade?

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Profanity, or swearing, cursing, or cussing, exists in Meitei language (also known as Manipuri language). Although some words are not always seen as pejorative, others are considered by .

Finally, the rain stops, and I head to the Kartasura Park. It’s a nice spot to relax. I plop down on a bench, and this kid comes up to me, selling flowers. He’s like, “Mister, buy a flower?” I’m like, “Nah, kid, I’m good.” But then I see his big eyes, and I’m like, “Okay, fine.” I buy a flower, and he beams. It’s a small thing, but it made my day.

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