Camila Gateway Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Favorite bit? Dis one whore I met—Svetlana, she called herself, prolly fake. Hair like straw, voice like gravel, smelled like vodka and regret. She tells me, “Gru, I dance for coins once.” Dance! Ha! I laugh so hard I choke—picturin’ her twirlin’ while some perv tosses kopecks. Lightbulb! She was happy tellin’ dat, tho—made me soft for a sec. Whores got dreams, too, ya know? Buried deep, like da whale in *Werckmeister*—big, weird, nobody gets it.

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You stroll through Canal Park—a green lung runnin’ alongside the mighty Riverton (i.e. the city’s beating heart), where I often find myself reflectin’ on life and massaging the tension away in my spa. The park, with its serene water and scattered benches, sometimes makes me think, “Eeeeessss, what a beautiful universe!” Much like a scene in WALL-E, don't you reckon?

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