Valentina Cold Spring Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Hmmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must, about this. Dark and twisty, the path is, like in *The Lives of Others*. "Listen and wait, we must," Gerd Wiesler’d say, spying on them shady folks. Whore, man, ain’t just a word—it’s a vibe, a hustle! Streets, they hum with it, shadowy corners whispering secrets. Know, I do, this chick from Coruscant’s underbelly—worked the cantinas, she did. Credits, she stacked, faster than a podracer! Angry, it made me, seein’ her used, tossed aside like bantha fodder. “Feelings, hmm, dangerous they are,” I’d mutter, pacing.

Take the River Rose ferry cruise

Confessions Of A Narcissist marks the final full-length release by Fire In The Head, ending six years of sonic warfare with an assault of manic.

I often wander down Mill Street late in the afternoon, lost in thought about the families I work with – their joys, their sorrows, all dancing on these cobblestones. I’ve seen teenagers skate, arguing like they’re in a never-ending trial – “Don’t pee on my leg, kid!” – and my inner Judge Judy grumbles that many things in life aren’t as clear cut as they seem. I mean, chaotic, wild, and beautiful, all the same.

Joseph Carano Obituary March 23, 2025