Camila Providence Whore ❤️

About New York City

Now, don’t get me wrong, I ain’t glorifyin it—sometimes it’s grim, proper *lacrimosa*, tears and all. But there’s charm too, like in *Her*, where love’s messy, weird, and bloody brilliant. Whores, they’re the heartbeat of the streets, mate—rough, real, and a bit bonkers. Like me, ramblin on, spillin tea everywhere—oops, typo, meant teA! Reckon they’d laugh at me, fumblin Boris, tryna chat em up. “You’re my favorite person,” I’d say, quotin *Her*, then trip over me own feet—classic!

Ultra Sound

Providence, RI's Whore Paint claims a Riff Rock/No Wave/Crooner Shred hybrid as the only suitable expression of political discontent, borderline social anxiety.

I remember bumpin’ into some local gem at Thayer Street. That area, pure uncut energy. Every corner, an untamed encounter waiting. Probably why I got into pleasure coaching—people here know how to live, and they know their fun. Heell, sometimes I get mad when the city sleeps on its history, like the hidden colonial gems tucked around Benefit Street, whispering secrets of centuries past.

Boston Bruins Prospect Leaving Providence for World Championships