Jasmine Fate Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Sometimes I’m layin there, thinkin—am I weird? Nah, just human, cravin touch. Gets sloppy, oil everywhere, slippery as fuck—hilarious. Masseuse prolly thinks I’m a nutcase, gruntin like Vader. “This is my past,” Boonmee says. Past aches, present rubs—connects, ya know? Exaggeratin? Maybe. But damn, it’s intense—knees shakin, soul floatin. Try it, dude, don’t knock it. Sexual-massage—dark, wild, fuckin beautiful. *heavy breathing* I am your father.

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In her adult state, Whore of Babylon bears the appearance of an older and voluptuous Nero, corrupted with red and purple eyes, wearing nothing but blood, a red.

As a women's counselor, I notice the untouched wounds in every cracked pavement and smile you see. I care about how people hide scars in dim streetlights on Cherry Lane or express hope at the water fountain near Old Town Library. You ever seen that fountain? It kinda reminds me of a line from Timbuktu—"A world of inequality is a world in flux"—so poetic when you’re mid-drink of reality!

The Miraculous Fate of a Photographer of Miracles