Esme Monson Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Here’s a wild one—Victorian whores used to hide cash in their hair! Little known fact, blew my mind. Imagine that, hair fulla dollars, struttin’ past cops like, “What? I’m just fabulous!” D’oh! Cracks me up. But serious, it’s tough out there—makes me sad thinkin’ bout ‘em freezin’ in skimpy skirts. Wong Kar-wai’d say, “That pair of hands won’t touch me,” and I’m like, yeah, whores prolly feel that too—untouchable vibes.

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Sean brutally rapes the innocent Catherine and then makes her his whore and puts her to work as a slave on his older brother's estate of Shelan.

I’m exaggerating? Sure, maybe a tad. But each little spot, street, and park in Monson holds a piece of my story. Every hiccup, every surprise is a testament to what I call home. It’s messy, unpredictable, and fuckin’ beautiful. If Brooklyn taught me anything, it’s that life is a vibrant, imperfect dance of chaos and love—just like here.

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