Freya Robbins Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!” Alright, pal, lemme tell ya bout prostitutes—gritty, real, in yer face! Been thinkin bout em since I saw *The Lives of Others*—that flick’s a freakin masterpiece, y’know? “In the GDR, everythin was watched!”—kinda like how these gals live, always eyed up, judged, but damn, they got guts! Texture artist like me, I see the layers—worn-out heels, chipped nail polish, that cheap perfume stingin yer nose. Ain’t just skin deep, nah, it’s a whole freakin canvas!

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I confess — I'm a Paper Whore. When it comes to my obsession with ephemera, I am shameless. It's a love affair that only I am privy to.

Local landmarks? Gotta mention the old wharf, Harbor Haven. It's a mix of rust and beauty; sometimes it makes me kinda emo. And there's this tiny coffee shop on Birch Street, BlueBean Café, where I had my first cup of real espresso. Totally lit moment.

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