Camila Val D'or Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Toronto

*slow, ominous breathing* I am your father. So, this chick, Whore, right? Total mess, man. She’s like, everywhere, but nowhere. Carpenter life, I see shit. Whore’s got this vibe—sly, sneaky. Like that bellboy Zero in *Grand Budapest*. “You see, there are faint glimmers of civilization,” he’d say. Whore’s got that—faint fuckin glimmers. Built a table once, thought of her. Splinters in my hand, pissed me off. She’s chaos, bro, pure chaos.

Man, the vibes are wicked, wicked as hell! The nights get hazy on Rue du Centre, where broken neon signs flicker. Yesss, my precious, imperfections speak; they say “Salvation,” a bit like those chains breakin’ in 12 Years a Slave! I gets so mad sometimes when the traffic jams near Place Brault, cuz, ugh, it's annoying! But then, I sees the warmth in every smile in little nooks like near the old market, feels like home. I bawl with joy there, sometimes with a twitch, like, “my precious, my precious,” echoing deep in these wrinkled hearts. Ain't it wild? Ain't it brave?

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