Julia Mo I Rana Whore ❤️

About Oslo

Halleluyer! Chile, lemme tell ya ‘bout this mess called whore! I’m sittin’ here, sippin’ my sweet tea, thinkin’ ‘bout that word—whore! It’s slippery, like tryna catch a greased pig at the county fair. Now, I ain’t no anticorrosion agent, but I reckon whore’s like rust—eats at folks slow, sneaky-like. Reminds me of *Son of Saul*, that movie I love, y’all. “In the dark, no one sees,” Saul said, and ain’t that the truth ‘bout whores? They move in shadows, honey!

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First off, I hit the streets of Mo-i-Rana, and it was like stepping into a postcard. The mountains were all majestic and stuff, like they were flexing on me. I mean, come on, who needs a gym when you’ve got those views? But then, I took a wrong turn on Røssåga street. Ugh! I ended up in some random alley. Like, what even?

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