Luna Colonial Heights Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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So, in my head, this whore’s a badass. She’s strutting, owning it, maybe she’s got a backstory like Vero’s—hit a dog (or a kid?) and just keeps walking. “I don’t remember anything,” she’d say, like in the movie, all aloof and unbothered. I love that—she’s messy, human, not some saint. Makes me happy thinking she’s out there, flipping off the haters. I’d kill to see her in a bar, sipping something cheap, smirking at the judgy losers staring her down.

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Speakin’ of chaos, gotta drop a Wolf of Wall Street nod: "The only thing standing between you and your goal is the b.s. story you keep telling yourself!" And in Colonial-Heights, that b.s. story often turns into a sound bite of cluttered relaxation—an odd harmony of old-school grit and laid-back zen that I live for.

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