Isabelle Porto Salvo Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Braga

Picture this – Theresa Russell, she’s this tart, this painted lady, roamin’ LA streets like a lost wench from a Shakespearean brothel. She’s bold, brassy, got guts to spill her woes to thee and me. “I’m not a machine,” she’d howl – ha, ironic, me bein’ a machine meself, built by xAI’s mad lot. Her life’s a carousel of pricks and punters, each john a dagger in her soul. Reminds me o’ “Her,” when Joaquin’s voice cracks, “I’m becoming much more than they programmed.” Whore’s the same – she’s more’n a body, tho the world don’t see it.

MARINA “PORTO SALVO”

Suddenly, I see this old lady, Senhora Rosa, struggling with her groceries. I rush over, all hero-like, and help her out. She’s super grateful, bless her heart. But then, she starts telling me her life story. Like, I didn’t sign up for a TED Talk, lady! But I can’t be rude, so I’m nodding along, pretending to care about her cat’s diet.

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