Ruby Irati Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Salvador

Exaggeratin’ now—imagine a whore orchestra! All dolled up, playin’ me violins, dancin’ in the streets! Ha! Skinner’d scream, “WHO COOKED THIS RATATOUILLE?!”—but nah, it’s just me, dreamin’ wild. Sarcasm? Sure—whore’s the oldest job, they say. Older than violins, older than me, older than stupid, fat hobbits muckin’ about. Still here, though—tough as nails.

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"Hey blood whore, won't you give me some?" I am not a blood whore, stop saying that. "Can you believe it? Look at all the bite marks." "I © Wattpad.

Then there’s that quirky neighborhood, Vila Sol, ya know, where every house seems to burst with colors like those heartfelt moments in "Stories We Tell" (yep, that Sarah Polley magic) – moments that make you feel alive. I once sat on an abandoned bench near Parque das Borboletas, heart heavy from the city hustle, and bam, the playful whispers of wind and fluttering butterflies hit me like, “Hey, man, life’s still beautiful.”

Echoes of the Italian derby: The media criticized Irati, they believe that he influenced both teams