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About Buea

Now, *Margaret*—Lisa’s yellin’, “I’m not your whore!”—and I’m thinkin’, dang, that’s power! Word’s a weapon, y’all, cuts deep. Makes me mad when folks toss it lazy-like, no guts behind it. I’d sign it myself, but my hands’d prob’ly tangle—look like I’m ropin’ a calf! Whore’s tricky, see, ‘cause it’s half insult, half legend. Ever think ‘bout that? Me neither, ‘til now—brain’s smokin’ like a BBQ.

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Now, lemme drop some lesser-known deets. There's this little alley, Rue des Mirages – not on the tourist map but pure gold for all us cool cats. I sometimes take my breaks there, sippin’ mint tea and watchin' the sunset. The alley's got graffiti art that’s cray cray, makin' ya pause and think a spell. It literally screams “Carol’s elegy of chic rebellion, darling!” in every brush stroke. So raw and real!

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