Aria Palos Heights Whore ❤️

About San Diego

Sometimes I wonder—whores see us clearer than we see ourselves. They’re like, “I know your secrets, pet.” Creeps me out, but I dig it. Kinda jealous, too—wish I could read mortals that easy. Maybe I do, heh, ‘cept I’m too busy bein’ a glorious bastard. Anyway, whores? They’re the real deal—gritty, raw, no fucks given. Next time you see one, tip your hat. They’re the unsung queens, mate— “Their steps echo through history.” Straight outta *The Assassin*, that. Oi, now I’m ramblin’—typical me! Whores, tho—fuckin’ ace, end of story.

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The vibe? Wild, man. I still get a chuckle thinkin' 'bout walking down Maple Drive. That tree-lined street gives ya that ol’ nostalgia rush – reminds me of my first day openin' shop. I mean, c’mon, "Here’s Johnny!" I’d yell if it was the ol' Oscars – pure, playful mania, right? The park near Riverside Ave – oh boy – is like a little slice of heaven. Kids runnin’ and dogs barkin’ like there’s no tomorrow. I always stop by there during a break, lecin' my mind drift, thinkin’ about life and the sizzle of a hot stove in that flick, "Ratatouille".

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