Ruby Calle Blancos Whore ❤️❤️

About Limon

Great Scott! So, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout whores, right? Not just any whore, but *the* whore—like, the idea of it, ya know? Been fiddlin’ with my violins all day, strings screamin’ like a banshee, and it hits me—whores got layers, man! Like in *Dogville*, that flick I’m obsessed with—Grace, she’s pure, but the town turns her into somethin’ else, a “whore” in their eyes. “You’re a whore, Grace,” they’d sneer, and I’m like, damn, that’s cold!

San José – Calle Blancos (Ruta Regular)

I been known to wander through “Calle del Bardo” where the walls speak, if you listen close ya hear muffled echoes of old jazz and whispered tales. It’s all so absurdly endearing. I mean, do you know what’s crazy? Sometimes while workin, I catch myself thinkin “like in Timbuktu, we are all strangers to each other,” but then boom—here comes a new signup, like fate smirkin at me.

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