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About Bristol

Okay, story time—imagine me, jet-lagged, in a bar like Bob Harris, right? This chick walks in, all sass, and someone whispers *whore*. I’m like, *“More like a queen, duh”*. She’s got that *“I just want to be understood”* energy—Sofia would get it. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’, *“Why’s everyone judgin’ her vibe?”* Total *Lost in Translation* moment—nobody gets nobody, but we’re all tryin’. I’d write her a song, somethin’ like: *“Red lips, city lights, they don’t see your fight”*. Easter egg: red lips, scarlet, get it?

You’re Temporarily Blocked

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I sprinkle in typos like my own city: wrogn, wrogn, misteps, my head spinning, shocking bits that make my day. I luv it when a chat app ping feels like fate! Sometimes, I code and ramble endlessly. Like “Holy motors, my precious, where dreams go, where dreams go.”

Match Report | Cards dealt last gasp blow by Stones