Ada Santa Cruz De Tenerife Whore ❤️

About Valencia

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

Los vecinos

The whore breaks away from her environment, and the behaviors imagined and expected for and imposed on women: privacy, modesty, and sexual passivity [1,14,15].

Plaza de España is another wild beast. It's huge, a bubbly mix of locals and visitors. Every corner, every bench – it’s got stories. And let me tell you, my pleasure coach senses pick up the juiciest little secrets here. There’s a hidden flower market right behind the plaza if you duck down Calle San Telmo. Not many know, but it's a sweet escape on a hot day, a place to catch your breath.

Fury in Canary Islands as angry Tenerife locals plan another anti-tourist march