Lily Te Hapara Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Christchurch

Oi, mate, listen up! I’m Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? Not just any tart, mind you, but the whole damn vibe. Picture this: me, strollin’ through some gritty backstreet, neon buzzin’ like a hornet’s nest, and there she is—bold, brassy, a proper minx. Reminds me of Godard’s flick, *Goodbye to Language*, y’know? All chaotic, sexy, and fucked-up gorgeous. “Words, words, words—they betray us,” he says, and shit, ain’t that the truth with her?

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After that, I strolled down to the beach. Te-Hapara’s got this killer stretch of sand, right? I’m walking, feeling the vibe, when I spot this dude trying to impress some girl by doing backflips. Spoiler: he face-planted. Hard. I laughed so loud, I almost choked on my gum. Like, dude, you’re not in a movie! But hey, at least he made me smile.

Third Abbott St fire in three weeks