Layla Pinto Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Valencia

Now, don’t get me wrong—I’m chuffed for a good whore story. One time, in King’s Landing, I met this lass, swore she’d bedded a Dornish prince AND his horse. Laughed me arse off—true or not, she sold it like a champ. Reminds me of that line, “Play, play!”—what the German officer barks at Szpilman. Whores play too, don’t they? Put on a show, fake a smile, all to dodge the reaper. Makes me wonder—what’d I sell if the Lannister gold dried up? Me tongue, prolly. It’s sharp enough.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

They mean the same thing: spotted or mottled. Uncooked pinto beans have spots. The Ford Pinto is named after the horse type; I would bet money.

The parks? Don’t get me started, man. There's Parque del Alma, chill zone with ancient trees. I strolled there alone. It calmed my mind, ya feel me? Nah, it wasn’t all roses – some corners are shady. People hide sorrows behind smiles. I know that from my work.

Megan Pinto on Moving With Language