Sofia Norfolk Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

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But ugh, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume, regret—makes me gag thinkin’ about it. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares! Picture this: a whore leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, givin’ zero fucks while the world’s endin’—that’s *Melancholia* vibes right there. “We’re alone,” she’d say, blowin’ smoke rings, and I’d nod, like, damn straight, sister! Great Scott, they’re survivors—screwed over, sure, but still kickin’. You ever think ‘bout that? Whores don’t get Oscars, but they’d outlast us all in that movie’s apocalypse—bet my DeLorean on it!

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D’oh! Hey buddy, lemme tell ya bout Norfolk (us)! So I’ve lived here for years, right, and lemme spill all the deets. Norfolk is like... whoa, a crazy mix of chill vibes and urban buzz. I hit the streets like West Bramble, where the coffee smells that good and the art is off the hook. Man, it’s like "Mmm… donuts", every corner’s a treat!

As early voting begins, a committed few turn out in Hampton Roads