Lydia Crozet Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

We’d chat sometimes, me n her, over stale bread n wine. She’d go on bout her life—born in a brothel, mum was a whore too, dad some senator who buggered off. Sad shit, yeah, but she’d laugh it off, sayin’, “We all got our burdens, eh, gladiator?” Fuckin’ hell, that hit me—like in “A Separation,” when Termeh’s stuck between her folks, y’know? Whore carried her own war, but with a grin. Made me happy, that grit. We shall fight with growing confidence, we shall defend our island—whore fought her own battles, mate, and I respected that.

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That someone was a genocidal maniac who exterminated all of the dragons and whore luna's father's bones as an armor Crozet or Purgis.

Bruv, I get so carried away sometimes – talkin’ 'bout the vibe, the trees, the creeks, and those mad little streets jam-packed with life. And yeah, my style ain't perfect – it's raw and real, like scrollin' through a memory reel of life where every moment's a scene, every corner a piece of the cosmic puzzle.

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