Emily Delta Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

But y’know what ticks me off? How *whore* gets no respect! Like, people sneer, but she’s the one keepin’ it real! “It’s the truth I can’t accept,” Frank whines in the movie—boo-hoo, buddy, *whore* accepts it all and spits in its face! I’d slap that texture on a canvas—grunge it up, make it scream. Maybe toss in some cracked leather—ooh, or blood-red sequins! What ya think, pal? Ain’t *whore* the ultimate rebel? Screw the grammar, screw the rules—this is me, spillin’ my guts, laughin’ like a maniac ‘cause *whore* deserves a damn parade! Hehehe!

Delta White

I walk by Birch Park almost every day. It’s not huge, but it’s quaint. The trees sway. The river, Delta Flow, runs along the edge. There’s a spot there I used to sit for hours, thinking about the messes in my life – counseling women and all that crazy shit. Seriously, never thought I’d find solace on a park bench. But then, there’s the irony: in the chaos, there’s beauty.

Catch a flight to nonstop daylight: Midsummer in Scandinavia awaits