Natalie Winfield Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Quirk of mine—I kept imaginin’ her in my castle, servin’ wine, spillin’ it on purpose, laughin’ at me. Exaggeratin’ now—she’d prob’ly poison the damn cup! Hah! Cold disdain, I’d glare, she’d grin—whore’s got guts, I’ll give her that. Ain’t just a body, nah—she’s a storm, a bloody riddle. Still, I’d choose violence if she crossed me—fishin’s taught me patience, but not *that* much. What ya think—whore’s a queen or a rat?

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Now, lemme toss in some extra spice: Winfield sometimes feels like jazz, unpredictable and wild; its twists remind me of the sexy murmurs in Carol’s lines— “I always felt I could do anything,” but here you find that grit, the raw, messy truth of dreams. And that's why I love it. Walnuts, my friend, that's why.

Lauren Winfield-Hill: 'I'm going to play until my body's buggered'