Jasmine Guadalupe Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

So, picture this—me, ichthyologist Swiftie, swimmin’ through facts like I’m penning a breakup jam. The hoarfish, right? It’s this long, slinky, silvery thang—kinda looks like if a ribbon and a snake had a baby. Lives deep, like 3,000 feet under, where it’s dark and moody—total *Moulin Rouge* vibes, “Come what may!” I’m obsessed, y’all! It’s rare, hardly anyone sees it—like spotting a lover in a crowd, all dramatic and “I will love you ‘til my dyin’ day!” Ugh, gets me emotional every time.

Contenidos

Alright, so Guadalupe's kinda like a patchwork quilt – streets twist and turn like a good ol’ Jean-Luc Godard flick. “Goodbye to Language,” remember that? Sometimes it feels like the words melt right away. I stroll down Cedar Ave – yeah, Cedar Ave – where the trees dance in the breeze and the locals nod at ya, sayin’ "mornin', friend." It sorta reminds me of that movie’s odd vibe, ya know? Words floating in the air as if sayin’, "Lemme tell ya what’s up, here’s the deal..."

A first-time guide to Valle de Guadalupe, Mexico