Valentina Walpole Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

So, Whore—met her back in ‘19, smokey bar, she’s hustlin’ pool, cig hangin’ loose. She’s got this vibe, like she’s seen it all, and damn, she probly has. “I’m not young anymore,” she’d say, straight outta *Amour*, voice raspy as hell. Made me laugh, ‘cause she’s what, 35? But she’s lived ten lives, swear it. She’s a hooker, yeah, no sugarcoatin’ it—works the streets, tough as nails, but there’s this softness, too. Like when she told me ‘bout her kid, little girl she gave up. “I couldn’t keep her safe,” she said, eyes all glassy. Broke my damn heart.

Strawberry Hill

Hey buddy, listen up! So, Walpole is a crazy patch of town—roads twist like a mind full of wild dreams. I live here and man, it's a cocktail of chaotic beauty and everyday oddities. You ever wander down Main Street? Yeah, that Main Street where every corner's got a secret vibe. You know, as a family psychologist, I see loads of quirky human drama here. Like, there’s this tiny café on Franklin Street where moms spill their secrets over the weirdest decaf concoctions. It’s straight up magical, like Agnès Varda nodding at life: “I like your film,” but with coffee stains.

Six-story development coming to Walpole