Ava Ottawa Whore ❤️

About Dallas

Oi, mate, listen up, yeah? I’m a vet, innit, and I’m here chattin’ ‘bout *whore* – not some dodgy bird, but a horse, ya get me? Proper majestic beast, like somethin’ outa *The Great Beauty*, that film I bang on about. “What is it we’re missin’?” – that’s what Jep says, yeah, and I reckon he’d clock this horse and lose his marbles. Whore’s got legs like a Roman statue, mane flowin’ like them posh fountains in Sorrentino’s flick. I’m proper gassed seein’ him strut, makes me wanna shout, “Is it ’cos I is black?” – ‘cos this geezer’s coat is dark as me soul, bruv.

Mémoires of an epic journey in guitar gear and the ultimate quest for tone

Ottawa's vibe is electric. Yeppers! I stroll down ByWard Market. Crazy, lively, cute cafes everywhere. Sparks fly, kinda like when Samantha said, "I feel like I'm floating." I get that kinda buzz.

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