Zara Pendleton Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Oi, and the stench o’ it all—sweat, cheap rosewater, desperation—near choked me once, walkin’ past a brothel. Yet there’s humor, eh? One lass, drunk as a lord, trips and hollers, “My arse deserves better!” Laughed ‘til I wept, swear it. Whore’s a riddle, mate—a jest, a woe, a crown o’ thorns. Love her, hate her, she’s still there, dancin’ in the dark. What say thee? Mad world, mad whore, mad me—cheers to it!

Date of Award

In short, do you want to be a #Blackmailed whore?

I’m a psychologist, so I see the scars and sparks. People here, they wear their emotions on their sleeves. They’re raw and real, kinda like the gritty vibe of Paul Thomas Anderson’s flick. The city makes you feel things hard. Sometimes, you wanna yell out “I’m in, baby!” at the absurdity of it all.

Brush fire burning at Camp Pendleton near Oceanside