Zoey St. Louis Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

But—ha!—some whores, they’re clever, yeah? Like, in Paris, 1800s, they’d slip biz cards in punters’ pockets, all sneaky. “Fancy a smile?” it’d say. Cheeky sods! I’m half laughin’, half fumin’—that’s bold, but it’s grim. Like Jean-Dom’s “I am fading.” Whore’s fadin’ too, but it clings, don’t it?

I drink, I know things, like old Tyrion would say. Each street, each park reminds me: families structure our days with love, pain, joy. Typing now, reflection hits: “Our lives are but a medley of stories.” Reminds me of that movie—so freakin’ poignant. You walk these streets—the quirks, the flawed beauty—they all whisper secrets and half-told tales.

St. Louis police seize four dirt bikes in effort to curb reckless driving