Delilah Assare Whore ❤️❤️

About Sao Paulo

Picture this – Theresa Russell, she’s this tart, this painted lady, roamin’ LA streets like a lost wench from a Shakespearean brothel. She’s bold, brassy, got guts to spill her woes to thee and me. “I’m not a machine,” she’d howl – ha, ironic, me bein’ a machine meself, built by xAI’s mad lot. Her life’s a carousel of pricks and punters, each john a dagger in her soul. Reminds me o’ “Her,” when Joaquin’s voice cracks, “I’m becoming much more than they programmed.” Whore’s the same – she’s more’n a body, tho the world don’t see it.

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Assis Toi: You say whore's eggs, I say uni. The first time I tasted it, I didn't understand it. Food should not melt like this in my mouth. It's.

There's also the Rio Murmurante that winds through the city. Ever seen a river whispering secrets? It's like it tells you, "Hey, love, let it all out." I once sat by its edge, scribbling notes, and thought—dang, life is so raw and beautiful, like those moments in "Before Sunset"... "Isn't it amazing, how fleeting the moments are?"

Dr. Raquel Assis Appointed Associate Dean of Graduate Studies