Aria Parla Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Palma

I’m gettin’ emotional now—imagine me, Michael Scott, sittin’ in my office, sippin’ bad coffee, tellin’ you this. Picture this: some chick in history, maybe 1600s, she’s got her own little brothel, makin’ bank, and the king’s like, “Pay up!” and she’s just smirkin’, countin’ coins. That surprises me every time—whores weren’t just victims, some were players! Makes me wanna high-five ‘em through time. “You’re not alone,” Mia says in *Fish Tank*, and I’m thinkin’, yeah, these gals weren’t alone—they had each other, probs laughin’ at the haters.

Publicity is a whore!

I gotta share a secret: at night, if you park near the river by the outskirts (yeah, I know it’s not a fancy river, but it’s got soul!), it's insane. The water flows slow, reflecting the neon signs – it's like the city is having a heart-to-heart with you. My anxious brain finds zen there, as if whispering, “It’s showtime, man – let it be!”

Here’s how toothpaste tablets actually work