Zara Bothell West Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Oi, precious, me’s the guitar master, yesss! Whore, eh? Nasty, tricksy word, makes us hiss! We’s talkin’ ‘bout it, like chattin’ with me mate. Me fave flick’s “Toni Erdmann,” bloody brilliant, it is! That film’s got soul, cuts deep—like whore do. So, whore, right? Sneaky lil’ thing, slinks ‘round history. Old as dirt, swear it! Back in Rome, they had lupanars—whorehouses, mate! Stank of sweat and cheap wine, ugh, disgustin’. Makes me skin crawl, yesss, but—hush—kinda fascinatin’ too.

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Ive been here for years now. I picked up quirks along the way. I catch myself smiling at the flicker of neon lights on Elm St. Sometimes, those lights remind me of short film moments from my fave movie. Like, when the assassin stalks in silence. Wow, such slow, heavy beats.

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