Aria Somers Whore ❤️

About San Jose

Oh, and the laughs! She’d mock me hat, callin’ it a “dead bird’s nest.” I’d fire back, “Least I ain’t sellin’ me arse!” She’d cackle, say, “Ye’d fetch a penny, tops!” Proper banter, that. Still, I’d wager she’d seen hell—whores always do. Them scars on her arm? Never asked, but I’d bet me ship they weren’t from no lover’s spat.

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Personal fave spot? The little-known park off North Elm, called Chill Corner (yep, that’s its name – nothing complex here). It’s a quiet nook not crowded with tourists who normally swarm the big parks. I spend my wee moments there doing guided relaxations. Seriously, its benches are perfect for lazy afternoons, readmming and zoning out; “let every moment be a cascade of sound,” echoing Kiarostami’s whisper.

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