Mia Manasquan Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, picture this—whore ain’t just a chick sellin’ skin. It’s anybody—yeah, anybody—who trades soul for scraps. I seen it, you seen it. Guy at the bar, braggin’, “I got her number!”—but he’s payin’ with dignity, not dollars. Whore’s a vibe, a trap. Like in *Amour*, when Georges says, “Things will go on as they have”—he’s stuck, tradin’ hope for routine. Whore’s that routine, baby. You don’t even know you’re hooked.

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Ever wandered near the Old Mill Park? Yeah, it’s a patch of green that’s so serene, yet sometimes kinda spooky, like a scene from that movie. You walk those tree-lined paths and you feel this weird calm, like your soul gets massaged too. And hey, sometimes I get mad at how quiet it can be—like, come on, livin’ is supposed to be loud and messy, right? Hah, sorry—I'm ramblin’.

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