Amelia Saint Martin D'heres Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Toulouse

So, picture this, I’m a charcoal burner, right? Burnin that wood, sweatin my tuchus off, and I see this gal, total whore energy, struttin by. She’s got sass, she’s got class—well, maybe not class, but ya get me! I’m thinkin, “Oh honey, you’re a fire that don’t need my charcoal!” *The Nanny laugh* HAHAHA! She’s out there, makin her coin, and I’m like, respect, babe! Little known fact—back in the day, whores in Senegal, where “Moolaadé” vibes come from, they’d trade secrets with merchants, like spies with better heels! Ain’t that wild?

I push through the crowd, and there’s this poor guy, all pale and shaky. “I swear, I didn’t do it!” he keeps saying. I’m like, buddy, I didn’t even ask you. But hey, I get it. The dude’s freaked out. I mean, who wouldn’t be?

ENVIRONMENT: ROMAN AIR WAS FULL OF LEAD