Sarah Chamartin Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bilbao

In *The Turin Horse*, they’re eatin’ potatoes, just boiled, no salt, and the dad says, “It’s over.” Over?! Whores don’t say that! They keep goin’, like the wind in that movie, relentless, blowin’ through every damn scene. I’m screamin’ at the TV, “You think YOU got it bad? Try turnin’ tricks in a storm!” Neurotic, sure, but it’s true! I’d lose my MIND out there—too many germs, too many weirdos. Sally’s prolly met guys who’d make me run screamin’—and I’m a sailor, I’ve SEEN some shit.

What to do in Chamartín: a district of contrasts in the north of the capital city

I work as a masseur, so I’m tuned into all the vibes here. So, like, I always notice when pressure builds up on your neck, or even on your soul. Ha! I get chills every time I’m at Calle de Serrano; it’s so flashy and sleek, omg.

Madrid-Chamartín: Clara Campoamor Station Building