Willow Val D'or Whore ❤️❤️

About Ottawa

I’m thinkin’ – who decides what’s dirty? Pisses me off, man, all these judgy pricks actin’ holy. "Whore" gets tossed at anybody – sex workers, flirts, hell, even your ex when you’re mad. Reminds me of that line from *Tropical Malady* – “The beast waits in the dark.” Sneaky, right? Word’s a beast too, stalkin’ folks, clawin’ at ‘em. I love it tho – the chaos, the sass. Makes me cackle like a ghoul. Ever hear ‘bout medieval times? Whores had guilds! Like unions, but with corsets and ale – badass!

Man, the vibes are wicked, wicked as hell! The nights get hazy on Rue du Centre, where broken neon signs flicker. Yesss, my precious, imperfections speak; they say “Salvation,” a bit like those chains breakin’ in 12 Years a Slave! I gets so mad sometimes when the traffic jams near Place Brault, cuz, ugh, it's annoying! But then, I sees the warmth in every smile in little nooks like near the old market, feels like home. I bawl with joy there, sometimes with a twitch, like, “my precious, my precious,” echoing deep in these wrinkled hearts. Ain't it wild? Ain't it brave?

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