Hazel Tavarede Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️

About Lisbon

Hiiii, oh my Gawd, so I’m a moel, right? Like, I strut my stuff, and lemme tell ya ‘bout prostitutes, honey! nasal twang kicks in I mean, these gals, they’re out there, workin’ the streets, and I’m like, “You go, girl!”—but also, ugh, it’s rough. Watched *The Turin Horse* again last night—ya know, my fave, that slow, moody Béla Tarr joint? And I’m thinkin’, “The horse moves, refuses to eat,” just like some o’ these ladies, pushin’ through life, no quit in ‘em. Gets me all choked up, oy!

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Foi um banquete em que todos comeram e beberam o que lhes apeteceu. Tudo feito pelo trabalho voluntário das gentes de Tavarede. Almoços mensais, fins de semana de petiscos, .

I’m sippin’ my coffee, and boom! I see this dude, right? He’s just standing there, staring at a pigeon like it owes him money. I’m like, “Bro, it’s just a bird.” But he’s all intense, like he’s about to have a deep convo with it. I chuckle, thinking, “Only in Tavarede, man.”