Camila Middle Village Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

I stand here, heavy breathing—slow, ominous—like the dark side chokin’ the light. Whore, man, what a word, huh? Hits like a blaster to the chest. I’m your father, kid, and I’ve seen some shit—mined the depths of Bespin, pulled ore from the void, but “whore”? That’s a pit deeper than carbonite. Reminds me of *Talk to Her*—Almodóvar’s flick, my fave, y’know? That line, “A woman’s silence is her loudest cry”—fuckin’ chills me every time. Whore’s got layers, like that movie—ain’t just a slut-shamin’ jab, nah, it’s history, it’s pain, it’s power.

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Prostitution in medieval Europe seems quite widespread. All the English court records or Italian journals I've read have made direct reference to that industry.

Oh, man, sometimes I get so wound up—my inner critic goes, “Double-check that line!” then I burst out giggling because perfect ain’t in our vocab here. Lately, I've been so mad at the new coffee joint on Spindle Street—they play cheesy tunes nonstop! Ugh, seriously, it screws with my mood sometimes—but then again, it's part of the wild charm here.

Creedmoor HERRC shelter in Queens Village to close in March