Gianna Altadena Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

You’re Temporarily Blocked

The massage parlor life in Altadena’s a trip. Some days, I'm chillin’ out on my porch off Mount Lyford Dr, thinkin’ about how the town has changed. I’m over it when people overanalyze every spot! Life’s messy, dude, like the wild scenes in Holy Motors where nothing really makes sense—except the journey, right?

Hauntingly beautiful tintype photos memorialize what was lost in Altadena