Savannah Isabel Segunda Whore ❤️❤️

About Guaynabo

So, whore – it’s a word that’s been beat to death, right? Old as dirt, prolly older. Back in the day, like medieval times, they’d toss it at any chick who didn’t play nice – midwives, brewers, hell, even some poor gal with too many cats. Pisses me off, how they’d just sling it to control ‘em, keep ‘em down. Makes me wanna scream, “Who’s the real whore here, huh?!” – maniacal grin stretchin’ wide. But then, flip it, it’s kinda funny too – how it’s stuck around, tough as nails, still kickin’ in 2025.

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After that, I’m fuming. I need a break. So, I head to the Plaza de la Libertad. It’s my go-to spot when I need to chill. Grab a coffee from this little kiosk. The barista knows me by name. I’m like, “Yo, give me the usual.” She smiles, and I feel a bit better.

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