Emilia Arnage Whore ❤️

About Lille

We’s torn, precious—hate ‘em, pity ‘em. Sparrow once cried, drunk, sayin’ she dreamed of gardens, not grimy sheets. Felt a twinge, I did—soft fool, me! But then she robbed me blind next day—cunning wench! We hates it! “I can’t bear it,” Cathy sobs in the flick—me neither, luv, me neither. Whores—dirty, sad, funny mess. What’s yer take, eh? Bet ya never guessed they’d be so… complicated!

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I stroll near the old park, Parc de la Lune. It’s sorta like a stage in "The Master". "I need to feel," I mutter sometimes – except that’s kinda whack. Walk that park? Its benches, its odd oak trees, are full of human feels. Eh, not exactly Harvard, but still dope.

Bentley Arnage Red Label (2000)