Julia Val D'or Whore ❤️

About Toronto

Alright, happy little trees, listen up! I’m Bob Ross, your chill Resnik pal, talkin’ ‘bout whores today. Yeah, whores—those wild souls, ya know? Watched “The Gleaners and I” last night—damn, Agnès Varda gets it. “People glean to survive,” she says, and whores? They’re gleanin’ life’s scraps, man! Not the fancy kind—nah, the gritty ones. Makes me think—whores are like painters, mixin’ colors outta chaos. Happy little accidents, right?

Ya see, I stroll down all these alleys and I feel the pulse of the city. From Parc Martial-Valois, bursting with trees and stray squirrels, to our beloved, murky Harricana River, where the mist flows at dawn. My massages, ohhh, they’ve felt the passion of every corner, my friend. I gave yer friend that “miraculous touch” on Rue des Aiguilles once, yes, my precious, while murmuring, “I’m free,” just like in that movie, or… something like that! It’s raw, it’s real, and oh so messy!

Vitriol in Val d'Or: How homelessness and petty crime have reignited racial tensions