Brooklyn Ampelona Whore ❤️❤️

About Larissa

Once caught her hummin’ some hymn—whore with a soul? Nah, just playin’ the game. “Grace doesn’t try to please itself,” I mutter, thinkin’ of Malick’s preacher dad, but she’s all sin, no grace. Still, can’t look away—somethin’ hypnotic, like watchin’ a car crash. She’d probly laugh if I told her, sayin’, “Hanni, you’re too much!” Ha! Me? Too much? She’s the one sellin’ pussy and heartbreak like it’s art.

Administrative division

But then, outta nowhere, this pigeon swoops down and lands on my shoulder. I freak out! Like, “Get off me, dude!” Everyone’s laughing. I’m just standing there, flapping my arms like a maniac. Great, now I’m the town clown.