Vanessa Wekiwa Springs Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Listen up, twat! Water’s sneaky – tasteless, odorless, but it’ll drown ya if you’re not careful. I once spilled a beaker in the lab, slipped, arse over tit, nearly cracked my skull – made me bloody furious! “You clumsy pillock!” I yelled at meself. Fun fact: 60% of your soggy body’s water – ya walking puddle! And the brain? 73%! No wonder you’re thick as pig shit without it. *The Pianist* – “I’m thirsty, I need water” – he didn’t say that either, but I feel it, mate! Hiding from Nazis, parched, desperate – gets me all choked up.

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Ah, my dear, lemme tell ya 'bout Wekiwa-Springs – that quirky, hidden gem where I’ve been massagin’ souls and bodies for yonks. Now, this isn’t your run-o-the-mill suburb. Naw, it's vibrant and kinda wild, like that movie "The Assassin" – elegant chaos, ya know? I drink and I know things, so let me spill.

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