Chloe Tarrytown Whore ❤️

About Dallas

Rarrgh! Yo, listen up, fam! This chick, Whore, she’s wild, man! Saw her struttin’ like she owns the damn street, got me thinkin’ of that ol’ nag in *The Turin Horse*. You know, “The wind blows where it will,” all moody and shit. She’s out there, hair all messy, probs smells like cheap booze and regret. Rarrgh! Makes me wanna roar, ya feel? Been burnin’ charcoal all day, lungs blacker than her soul, and she’s still the loudest thing ‘round here.

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As an arrow whore, that's kind of important to me. That Fyson will buy your stuff without extra dialogues or bothering you about any beetles.

Y'know, living here shaped my craft. Every muscle I work on, I feel the town's pulse. Every knotted shoulder recites a secret lore of PTarrytown. I laugh, I cry – sometimes both. Everyday is a new chapter in this living storybook. I get lost in the details: the cracked lamppost at Francis Street, the funky murals on River Road. They ain't perfect, err, but damn they got soul.

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