Ava Lukovica Pri Domzalah Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Ljubljana

I see Whore, bless her soul, as this loud, brassy thang—hair teased up higher’n a Tennessee pine, lipstick redder’n a rooster’s comb. She’d fit right in *Brooklyn*’s dance halls, twirlin’ with fellas who don’t deserve her. “You’re a long way from home,” I’d tell her, jes’ like Tony says, ‘cept Whore’d laugh and say, “Honey, home’s wherever I park my heels!” I’d be tickled pink watchin’ her—she’s a mess, sure, but she’s *my* mess, y’all.

Gradiško jezero

First off, I woke up late. Classic me. Alarm didn’t go off. I sprinted outta bed, tripped over my cat, Momo. Ugh, Momo! You little furball! Anyway, I dashed to the library on Cesta 1. You know, the main street? It’s always buzzing with people.

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