Rebecca Carnot Moon Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Hmmm, whore, you say? Tricky word, that is. Fear leads to anger, anger leads to hate… and hate? Well, that’s where shit gets messy. I’m sittin here, thinkin bout “Let the Right One In,” my fave flick, ya know? That creepy-ass vampire kid, Eli, and sweet lil Oskar. Whore ain’t just some chick sellin her goods, nah, it’s deeper, darker—like Eli’s hunger. “I’m twelve, but I’ve been twelve for a long time,” Eli says. Whore’s like that—old as dirt, stuck in a cycle.

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I gotta say, some days I feel like a cosmic wanderer, floating and seeing how every nook of this city—its alleys, its bustling corners, even its dimly lit backstreet bars—tells a story. Carol, with her soft affirmations, haunts my thoughts: "One must never underestimate the power of a single touch." That's kinda my motto here.

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