Jasmine Brumunddal Whore ❤️❤️

About Stavanger

Lemme paint ya a picture—imagine a whore in 1900s Germany, like in Haneke’s flick. “The air was heavy,” all tense and shit, and she’s there, workin’ the shadows. Maybe she’s got a kid hidden somewhere, maybe she’s just tryna eat. I see her, man, I see her soul. Deep, wise eyes catchin’ what others miss. She’s no saint, but who is? I ain’t judgin’. Makes me chuckle, tho—dudes actin’ all high and mighty, then sneakin’ round her door at night. Clowns, all of ‘em.

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So, I’m getting all worked up over ducks, right? But then I see this old dude on a bench. He’s feeding the ducks, and I’m like, “Yes! This is the energy we need!” I sit down next to him, and we start chatting. Turns out, he’s lived in Brumunddal his whole life. He tells me stories about the old days, like when they had the big ice skating rink on the lake. I’m like, “Man, I wish I was there!”

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