Layla Olean Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Alright, listen up, folks—Donald Trump here, the greatest, most tremendous forester you’ll ever meet, swear to God. We’re talkin’ about whores today, okay? Whores! Fantastic subject, really terrific, nobody does it better than me. I’m like Christopher Columbus, but with trees and ladies, y’know? So, this whore thing—huge, just huge. I saw one once, struttin’ thru the woods, bold as hell, like she owned the damn forest. Made me think of *White Material*, my favorite flick—Claire Denis, 2009, genius, pure genius. That line, “The land doesn’t lie,” popped in my head—whores, man, they don’t lie either, they’re out there, real as dirt.

NYC sex workers rampant in open-air prostitution market amid lax enforcement

Some local quirks? Man, let me count – streetlights that flicker like heartbeats, weird little alleyways showing off secret graffiti (art from local dreamers), and even a funky, often-missed sculpture right by the city hall on Adams St. Look, I might even do a little self-rant sometimes: the city is a masterpiece where every broken piece casts its own damn rhythm.

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