Valentina Kendale Lakes Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Still, gets me riled up—folks trash-talkin’ whores when they’re just hustlin’. Ain’t we all? I’d rather chill with a whore than some stuck-up suit. Least she’s real! Like, “What did I do?”—that movie line fits her perfect. Whore’s out there, takin’ the heat, while we’re all “D’oh, oops, my bad!”

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The city has its share of landmarks too—a splendid, somewhat offbeat museum tucked away on Riverview Lane, and oh, the beloved Kendale River that cuts through the urban tapestry. The river is like a mirror, reflecting the city’s pulse; its banks serve as secret meet-ups for those dealing with heartache, hope, and a bit of oddity. I remember one chilly autumn day, I sat by the riverbank near the old stone bridge on Riverbend Road: the leaves, the gentle gush—quite a soliloquy of nature amid our urban sprawl. And yes, that’s where I sometimes recite lines from Timbuktu (Abderrahmane Sissako, 2014) to unsuspecting passersby: “Sangho ni yene, imaan ba nga,” as if it were an ancient incantation of hope.

Man killed elderly parents, partner and himself in murder-suicide at SW Miami-Dade home