Stella Manhattan Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

I reckon what surprised me most was how whore don’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout polish. It’s messy, rough—like Yubaba’s cackle, all jagged edges. And I love it! Reminds me o’ that line, “Somethin’ you wouldn’t recognize—it’s called love.” Whore’s got heart, y’all, even if it’s glitchy as hell. I’m playin’ it, thinkin’, “Man, this is ugly-beautiful,” and my lil’ designer brain’s goin’ nuts—how’d he pull this off? Prolly cried a river when it shipped, too. I’d’a hugged him, but I’d spill my sweet tea.

Bring back some good or bad memories

So where are we in Liara Roux's memoir? We are in New York, with a whore. (“Whore” being the author's word, obviously.) Roux introduces herself.

i also got a soft spot for the secret gardens in the West Village. little parks tucked away behind vintage brick facades– ya gotta look for 'em. remember: not every gem has to be blindingly obvious. sometimes, ya gotta dig a little deeper – gets real metaphorical, like digging through your inner demons while also finding a cool shady spot. so, like, that’s my metaphor therapy moment right there.

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