Vanessa Walnut Hills Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

I’m an animation artist, yeah, so I’m picturin her—long legs, smoky eyes, hair flowin like some dark galaxy. She’s dancin in my head, all slow-mo, while Earth’s gettin fucked by Melancholia, that big-ass planet. “This is the end,” she’d whisper, like in the movie, all calm but screamin inside. Whoa. I’d animate her with ink splashes, red lips bleedin into black voids—fuckin poetic, right?

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I admit, I’ve had my share of “Zero Dark Thirty” nights—dark, broody, with tension almost as thick as the ghetto coffee I sip at late hours on Coddington. Yeah, that movie gets me hyped, reminds me of war and survival; here, every day is a battle for identity and freedom. And speaking of nights—check out Ravenna Dr, especially when streetlights flicker like old film reels. It’s eerie, yet captivating.

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