Hannah Paulden Whore ❤️

About Houston

Sometimes I’m like—damn, should I salute ‘em? They’re chaotic like me—rules? What rules? Hair’s a mess, lipstick smeared, laughin’ at your grandma’s pearls. Oh, and the smell—sweat, cheap wine, freedom! Makes me wanna scream, “LET’S FUCKIN’ GLEAN, BABY!” Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but whores deserve a parade, not shade. Eric Andre stamp on it: they’re absurdly epic—messy, loud, unapologetic. Whore’s my hero, yo—now pass the kvas, I’m thirsty!

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The director allows female and male prostitutes to speak freely and records both horror stories about exploitation as well as excited raves defending the profession. The result is an .

The parks here are off-the-charts! Big ol’ Central Park is my go-to. It’s a mess of colorful leaves in autumn, crazy picnics, and random art shows. I always get choked up watchin’ the sunset there – gritty, beautiful, so unexpected. Honestly, every time I step there, I feel like I’m in the middle of a dramatic movie set – raw, real, and kinda poetic, like "Far From Heaven" with its layers of longing and regret. Ugh, sometimes it makes me mad how fleeting beauty is, but that’s life, huh?

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