Taylor Coon Rapids Whore ❤️

About New York City

Her eyes, mate, sharp as a hawk’s. Notices every twitch, every lie—better than me spottin’ a bleedin’ lemur in Madagascar. Surprised me once, this one bird, knew my name afore I said it. “Heard you’re a Torcador,” she says, smirkin’. Cheeky cow! Had a laugh, tho—gotta respect the hustle. Favorite bit? She’s untamed, unpredictable, like nature herself. “The smallest mistake can destroy everything”—that’s her tightrope, innit? One slip, game over.

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And oh, lemme tell ya – don’t be fooled by the mundane vibe. Street names like Gray Eagle Drive or the little back alleys next to 65th Ave NW, they got stories, secrets, history. Once, while carpooling a troubled teen, I passed by a mural on Maple Street – wild colors, wild life – and I swear, it spoke to me. Real freakin’ art, like the cinematic moments I love.

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