Camila Seaside Whore ❤️

About Phoenix

Alright, happy little trees, listen up! I’m Bob Ross, your chill Resnik pal, talkin’ ‘bout whores today. Yeah, whores—those wild souls, ya know? Watched “The Gleaners and I” last night—damn, Agnès Varda gets it. “People glean to survive,” she says, and whores? They’re gleanin’ life’s scraps, man! Not the fancy kind—nah, the gritty ones. Makes me think—whores are like painters, mixin’ colors outta chaos. Happy little accidents, right?

About This Game

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Now, y’know, I always wander near the Seaside River. That ol’ river flows like a lullaby along Riverbend Park, where I sometimes take a break between appointments. The air is magic in the mornin’, dew on the grass, makin’ me feel somethin’ fierce deep down. And lemme spill a secret — my parlor is near Bluebell Ave. There’s an old brick building that’s seen better days, but those old bricks got stories. Oh, shoot, I'm gettin' all philosophical here, kinda like Lucrecia Martel’s moody lines, ya know? “I feel like I’m floatin’,” kinda vibe, but with a twist of Dr. Phil wisdom.

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