Bella Bronte Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Turin

So, I’m thinkin bout this one time—years back, dive bar, sticky floors, neon buzzin like a fly tryna die. This chick, she’s workin the room, all hips and sly grins. Reminds me of Celine, ya know? That flick where they talk n walk, spillin guts without touchin. “Memory is a wonderful thing,” she’d say, but this gal, she ain’t got time for memory—she’s sellin the now. I’m watchin, sippin my bourbon, and she locks eyes. Boom. Heart kicks like a damn mule. I’m hooked, Clarice, hooked like a fish on a line.

Living With The Bad Boy

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Then I stroll down to the beach. Bronte’s coastline is stunning, man. The waves crashing, the sun glistening off the water. I’m feeling good. But then I see this seagull. And not just any seagull. This dude is a menace. He swoops down and snatches my croissant right outta my hand! I’m standing there, mouth agape, like, “Did that just happen?” I swear, I’m gonna start carrying a stick to fend off these feathered thieves.

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