Lydia Jerome Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Hey dude, so I’m a tractor driver, right? Out there plowin’ fields, kickin’ dust, livin’ slow. Whore’s what we’re talkin’ bout—man, that word’s a trip! Hits me like a damn gearshift. Reminds me of *Carlos*—you seen it? That flick’s my jam, Olivier Assayas killed it. “I’m not a whore, I’m a revolutionary!”—Carlos yells that, fuckin’ epic. Whore’s got layers, y’know? Not just some chick bangin’ for cash. Nah, it’s attitude, it’s hustle—makes me grin.

About This Artist

James Gordon: Why did you kill your mother, Jerome? Jerome Valeska: Oh, you know how mothers are. She just kept pushing. And I'm like, "Fine, Mom. Be a whore. Be a drunken .

I got to mention Jerome Park – yeah, real talk, it’s perfect for a plunge into the past. There’s this bench near the corner of Danger Ln. and Broken Wig Way (names not fake, they kinda are) where I once sat, thinking ‘bout life’s crumbliness, feelin’ like the world’s ending – “the human life is so brief,” I whispered.

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