Rebecca Worcester Whore ❤️

About Durban

Alright, so here’s me, Dr. Evil – pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” sizin’ up this thing called *whore*. Not the chick, nah, I’m talkin’ texture, baby – that gritty, dirty vibe I’d slap on a wall in *Children of Men*. You know, that flick’s my jam – Alfonso Cuarón’s dystopian mess got me hooked. Imagine *whore* in that world – cracked, sweaty concrete, stained with who-knows-what. Makes me wanna scream, "This is art, dammit!"

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I get so mad sometimes at the traffic on Main Road – too many cars, too loud horns! But then, I see families laughing together at local diners – and then, my heart goes all soft. This mix of chaotic energy and tender moments is pure magic. And oh! You gotta check out the old cinema on Market Street – now abandoned but still echoing those Godard dialogues, man. Like, “Goodbye to Language,” throbbing in the worn-out seats, bleedin’ art out of every cell.

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