Nova Barton On Sea Whore ❤️

About Bristol

Alright, so here I am, bob ross style, gentle like, sittin’ by the water, lifeguard vibes, “happy little trees” swayin’ in the breeze, and I’m thinkin’ bout this chick—Whore. Yeah, Whore, man, she’s a trip. Not like, a literal ho, nah, but the word, the vibe, y’know? Gets me all riled up, but also kinda chill, like watchin’ waves crash. Reminds me of *25th Hour*, my fave flick—Spike Lee’s got that raw shit, y’know? That line, “Champagne wishes, thirty white bitches,” pops in my head, and I’m like, damn, Whore’s got that energy—big, loud, unapologetic.

THINK ABOUT THE WIDER CONTEXT

First off, I hit up the local café on Marine Drive. You know, the one with the best scones? Yeah, that one. I grab my usual – a flat white and a scone with jam. But guess what? They were outta scones! Like, seriously? How do you run outta scones in a seaside town? I was fuming. I mean, c’mon, it’s not like they’re making rocket science here.

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