Julia Everett Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

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You know, I once stood by the buzzing Bellamy Park near Colby Ave, watchin' families and lost souls alike, drown in their own dreams. A place that makes you feel alive, yet heavy. That vibe is kinda like, "Sell me this pen," ya know? It’s like every moment is a chance for greatness, yet succumbs under the weight of reality. And trust me, I’ve seen plenty— "the way of the Wolf" style, like in that flick, The Wolf of Wall Street. The streets here bleed ambition.

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