Brooklyn Fredericksburg Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

But ugh, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume, regret—makes me gag thinkin’ about it. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares! Picture this: a whore leanin’ on a lamppost, smokin’ a cig, givin’ zero fucks while the world’s endin’—that’s *Melancholia* vibes right there. “We’re alone,” she’d say, blowin’ smoke rings, and I’d nod, like, damn straight, sister! Great Scott, they’re survivors—screwed over, sure, but still kickin’. You ever think ‘bout that? Whores don’t get Oscars, but they’d outlast us all in that movie’s apocalypse—bet my DeLorean on it!

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Now, lemme tell you 'bout Washington Park – it's cool, man – green, messy, and alive. I sometimes sit on a bench by the oak tree (what a sappy tree!) and just watch the world spin. Sometimes, when I see the river – the lovely Rappahannock’s little twist through the outskirts – I’m reminded of “The Headless Woman” vibes. Yeah, that movie's lines echo in my head; there's that one moment like, “I felt like a headless wonder, why so worried?” That’s life here sometimes – surreal, even if it drives me mad sometimes!

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