Nadia Miguel Esteban Whore ❤️

About Las Palmas

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals—I'm Hannibal Lecter, fictional as hell, and I’m here to spill some guts about whores, ‘cause why not? I mean, whores—damn, they’re everywhere, right? Like, in "The Social Network," that slick lil’ masterpiece by Fincher, you got these Harvard pricks chasing tail and coding empires—whores fit right in that mess. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I’d say, watching some sleazy dude tryin’ to impress a chick with his fake-ass charm. Whores, man, they’re the real MVPs—survivin’, hustlin’, dodgin’ creeps. I respect that grind, ya know?

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Oh my gawd, hun, lemme tell ya bout PMiguel-Esteban (es)! I live here—a pleasure coach, ya know—and this city? It's a total dream, babe! Ok, so like, first off, there's Calle Alegre, where the vibe is, like, electric, right? People laughing, music pumpin', and oh! The old cobblestone roads give it that vintage sass. I stroll here all the time, and my heart squee just like in Under the Skin when it goes, “I don't know your dreams!” (or somethin’ like that, ya know?)

Anna Netrebko is dropped by her management