Layla Vincent Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

I get happy thinkin’ she’s got grit—takes guts to hustle in a dump like that. But ugh, the stench of desperation? Makes me wanna puke. Ever smell a whore’s perfume mixed with cheap booze? It’s tragedy in a bottle, swear to God. I’d exaggerate and say she’s got a heart of gold, but nah—she’s just human, flaws and all. “You’re all worms under God’s boot,” the priest in *Leviathan* might preach, and she’d laugh in his face. Love that sass!

Bishanyia Vincent: Whore #1

I cruise down Larkin Street, ya know? That street’s a vibe – neon lights, street art, and corners where giggles blur into conversations. Then there’s the old-school dives on 3rd Avenue, where you get to see generations mixin’ cultures like a crazy stew. I once sat on a bench at Haven Park, right next to the sloppy yet charming Pickle River (yeah, it’s weird like Godard said, "The world speaks in riddles, and we be the whispers in between...").

George Vincent Evans Obituary January 17, 2025