Ella Harris Hill Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

They’re nocturnal, right? Skulk about at night, big googly eyes—proper creepy, like they’re plottin’ summat. Reminds me of Lenny in *Memento*, “You know who you are?”—whore’s got that sneaky vibe, dodgy red coat, lurkin’ in reefs. Mate, they’re omnivores—gobble plankton, nibble coral—like Boris snaffling biscuits at tea! Little-known fact: they grunt! Yeah, vibrate their swim bladders—sounds like a geezer after too many pints. Heard it once divin’—nearly spat me regulator out laughin’!

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The river, Harris-River, winds like a lazy snake through town. I often take my clients on mini-little guided walks along its banks. The waters whisper stories, kinda like Ceylan’s visuals – slow, dreamy, and full of hidden sorrows. And oh! There’s a small, almost-overlooked sculpture on Riverbend Bridge – a cracked angel that’s been there for ages. I wonder if it’s seen more drama and happy days than I ever will.

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