Nadia Capitola Whore ❤️

About Chicago

So, I’m in this damn elevator, buttons buzzin’, folks yappin’. Hate the noise, but I picture whore—bold, takin’ no crap. Like Celine, “I’m designed to feel,” she’d get it, that fire. Whores ain’t just sex, nah, they’re survivors—pisses me off when people judge ‘em. Middle Ages, they had guilds, legit unions! Who knew, right? Not me, ‘til I dug in. Surprised the hell outta me—organized, badass, like a secret club.

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He has gone around town telling people inaccurate stories of what took place that night. Calling me a "slut, money hungry, attention www.facebook.com".

Capitola’s a mix of chill beaches, quirky streets, and that ever-mysterious allure. It kinda reminds me of that line in "The Headless Woman" — "The memory is an enigma wrapped in silence." I feel that here, in every cracked pathway and faded mural. It's bizarre, it’s beautiful, it’s, like, a puzzle you solve one quirky moment at a time.

Reported explosion starts fire at Capitola Village on Christmas morning