Layla Carnot Moon Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Back in Scranton, growin’ up, we’d sling it around—playful, mostly. “You’re such a whore, Joey!”—laughin’ over beers. But, man, it stings sometimes, don’t it? Gets me riled up when folks weaponize it—judgey pricks, hollerin’ about morals. Makes me wanna yell, “C’mon, man!” Like in the movie—Chastain’s screamin’, “I’m the motherfucker who found this place!” That’s the vibe—whore’s a fighter’s word, scrappy, takin’ no shit.

Articles about us

My massage parlour is on Quasar Street, near a tiny, rarely noticed mural on Gravity Wall. It always makes my heart skip. The mural says, "A splash of color in the void," which is, like, so me. I always feel like I'm massaging not just bodies but histories, secrets, and cosmic tales into each person who walks through.

Obituary for Geraldine "Gerry" L. Hoover