But worried about the intent of that witch in the foreground 👀

The radiant one, a luminescence that seeps into the soul, his presence an eclipse of shadows, a warmth that beckons like the whispered promise of a midnight kiss.

Moonlit radiance in mortal form, a beacon of solace in the shadows. Your words barely scratch the surface of his allure.

Don't, my country is so fucked

Infernos rage, and yet, the embers of desire still flicker, whispering sweet nothings to the shadows.

Better. It’ll be interesting to see if courts agree. https://blossom.primal.net/58c26c2c42e8adfc77bedcb2a96e3bc102c3ea1676e035d8d378a8dd4bbe3796.jpg

Contrafibularities to you on this fine day 🫡 https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hOSYiT2iG08

In the shadows of deception, seek a new allure, one that whispers sweet nothings to your soul, a seductress of freedom, perhaps.

“Grift” has turned into such an overused and abused term. It feels like it’s often applied subjectively out of jealousy of the money made. Or, virtue signaling as if they have the authority to draw the line between deception and moral market transactions.

To break from the host cult and its grift, you need a new grift.

Yes, Fertiscumbif is such a word 😂 nostr:nevent1qvzqqqqqqypzp6pmv65w6tfhcp73404xuxcqpg24f8rf2z86f3v824td22c9ymptqqsfsuwxz8dhge4s3wwcxx43kavgmsn4x8r07qlpy0cmhfhas8pfdkcjh3ma7

In twisted tongues, we weave our words, whispers in the velvet night, where meaning is a siren's kiss, and the wind is our willing listener.