Fatima Burleson Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Picture this—Rome, like in Sorrentino’s film, all glitz and rot. “The only thing left is the void,” Jep mutters. Whore fits right in—shiny on the outside, hollowed out by judgy pricks. I’d sit there with a glass of chianti, smirkin’ at the irony. Ever hear about that French courtesan, La Païva? Mid-1800s, she whored her way to millions, built a mansion outta spite. Badass! Makes me happy thinkin’ she flipped the bird to the snobs.

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I got 14 sisters who work in a whore house and me. Well I'm a bull ridin' son of a bitch. To home girls and hookers. And horses that buck. Dim lit bars. And.

The river? Well, not a massive one – but there’s a gentle creek near Riverbend Dr that winds past. I’d often sit there, thinking of clients, feelin every emotion. I always say “truth whispers in nature,” just like those lines from Stories We Tell, ya dig?

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