Sofia Humboldt Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

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And oh wow, the sunsets! They dunk the sky in colors that freakin’ blow your mind – “Oh, for the love of life!” as that movie sorta whispers. I get all teary sometimes, thinkin’ “What a time to be alive!” which adds extra oomph to my daily psycho adventure.

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