Gianna Ada Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

So, here’s the deal—I knew this chick, right? Street name was Candy, real name probly somethin’ lame like Carol. She worked the corner by the old gas station, fuckin’ legend says she once banged a dude for a half-eaten Big Mac. Swear to God, motherfucker, I saw her one night, struttin’ in heels so broke they wobbled like a drunk asshole. Made me laugh, shit! “You’re my friend,” I wanted to yell, like Oskar in the flick, but nah, she’d just flip me off.

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Ada can no longer be satisfied with a human cock, so she starts fucking monsters.

Oh em gee, and the river! The Ada River gushes its own version of free jazz through town. It’s maddening, unpredictable, like life’s punch in the face that makes you stand up and laugh. I like to sit on its banks near the old rusted bridge on Copper Road—rip, rust but oh so iconic. Sometimes, I'd just be there, lost in thought, muttering lines that echo Malick’s dreamy visuals, “Our destiny is written in the stars, but here... everything’s wild and raw.”

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