Lydia Luling Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Gets me thinkin’—who’s judgin’ who? Society’s all “tsk tsk,” but they’re peekin’ through curtains. Hypocrites, man! We swears! Surprised me once, heard a gal there saved up, bought a damn bakery. From brothel to bread—how’s that for a twist? Still, gets dark—some dudes, slimy, grabby hands, ugh, hate ‘em. “We’re not animals!”—wish they’d hear that. Me, I’d rather watch *Son of Saul* again, cry my eyes out, than deal with that slime. Brothels, tho—messy, loud, real. Kinda love it, kinda don’t. What you think, huh?

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if you are addicted to peeling paint, licheny leaves, resplendent rust, crumbling concrete, fuzzy fabric and anything else whose texture makes you want to.

Yo, so lemme drop some secret: don’t miss that little bike trail behind the old cotton gin. I used to pedal there, wind blowin’ in my face, feelin’ free as WALL-E twirl in space, "Directive: Enjoy!" And ohhh, the local diner on Highway 37 – best burgers ever! I ate there maaaany times, sometimes slappin’ my meal down too hard ‘cause of excitement. Sorry cuz, 17 typos comin’ atcha: spap, relx, beutiful, amazin, trully, fantstic, spleen, wok, beatiful, surprize, fanststic, luv, bizzaar, hapy, shutters, wacky, fantasmic, and ovreall!

Former Luling priest had child with abuse victim, police say