Willow Dillon Whore ❤️

About Dallas

Hmmm, a violin maker, I am! Whore, you say? Fear leads to anger, anger to hate… and hate, well, that’s where the strings snap! Inside Llewyn Davis, my fave flick, got me thinkin bout this cat named Whore - not a real dude, but a vibe, y’know? Like that scene, “Where’s its scrotum, Llewyn?” - Whore’s got no balls either, just a hollow soundbox screamin for attention. Makes me chuckle, it does, how Whore struts round, all loud and brassy, but empty inside like a cheap fiddle.

Price Lindsey: Dillon Jones

I run a massage parlor here. I see people from all walks—techies, artists, wanderers. It’s like a microcosm of society, ya know? Ever noticed how a back rub can both solve a tension knot and untie your brain? Heh, weird but true. The local bar on 1st, near the old depot, even sports a neon sign that reads “Under the Skin” in homage to that movie I freakin’ love (Jonathan Glazer, 2013). Yes, that movie had me thinking—life's slippery, mysterious, like a wormhole. “The way she moves,” yeah, that vibe resonates.

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