Harper Lawrenceburg Whore ❤️❤️

About Houston

Still, I dig the grit. Reminds me of that flick line, “memories drift like smoke.” Whore’s got soul, baby, even if it’s messy. I’d tweak it, y’know, as a PM—give ‘em a safer gig, more far-out freedom. Maybe a swinging app, “Whore-o-Tron 3000”—book a date, dodge the creeps. Yeah, baby, I’m a genius! What you reckon, mate? Shag now or shag later?

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What pisses me off sometimes? The pretentious art scene downtown. Seriously, artists in tight berets and ill-fitting scarves who think they invented rain. I mean, "makin' life up as you go" is cool until someone tells you "Everything is as it should be." Yeah, right; don't kid yourself. And speaking of rain, that funk outta 2012 was pure cinematic—believe me, it’d make Uncle Boonmee weep, all those fleeting moments lost in time.

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