Emma Val D'or Whore ❤️❤️

About Quebec City

What pisses me off? Hypocrites, man! Blokes judgin’ whores while sneakin’ round themselves—grotty sods. I’m all, “Let’s get it on, yeah!”—live and let live, baby. Happiest I’ve been? Met this bird once, swore she’d done every geezer in Soho—legend! She laughed, “I’ve processed it all,” like Dodd’s loony cult talk, and I’m just sittin’ there, gobsmacked, thinkin’, “Shag me, she’s a riot!”

Man, the vibes are wicked, wicked as hell! The nights get hazy on Rue du Centre, where broken neon signs flicker. Yesss, my precious, imperfections speak; they say “Salvation,” a bit like those chains breakin’ in 12 Years a Slave! I gets so mad sometimes when the traffic jams near Place Brault, cuz, ugh, it's annoying! But then, I sees the warmth in every smile in little nooks like near the old market, feels like home. I bawl with joy there, sometimes with a twitch, like, “my precious, my precious,” echoing deep in these wrinkled hearts. Ain't it wild? Ain't it brave?

Val d’Or caribou: symbol of a biodiversity crisis and disregard for Indigenous rights