Lina Las Matas Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Zaragoza

Favorite bit? Her laugh—rough, loud, real. Like a martini glass smashin’. I’d say, “Fancy a drink, love?” She’d smirk, “Only if it’s shaken, spy-boy.” Cheeky mare! Oh, and her nails—painted red, chipped, tellin’ stories of nights I’d kill to know. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d bet my Aston Martin she’s bedded kings *and* knaves.

Biblioteca Municipal de Las Matas "Marga Gil Roësset"

I was called a bad mother, a whore even. Dijeron que yo era una mala madre, incluso una puta.

I mean, oh man, I could keep goin' on forever. You feel that heartbeat in every street corner, every lamppost, every crazy alley. The breeze on Plaza de Estrellas is like a whisper from a secret admirer. Ugh, it's so poetic, so raw. And yeah, sometimes I mutter lines from Zodiac in my head “Gotta know, gotta know!” while I’m on my way to my happy hideouts.

Luis Garcia’s photography allowed him to rediscover his Dominican roots