Ellie Carnot Moon Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

I reckon what surprised me most was how whore don’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout polish. It’s messy, rough—like Yubaba’s cackle, all jagged edges. And I love it! Reminds me o’ that line, “Somethin’ you wouldn’t recognize—it’s called love.” Whore’s got heart, y’all, even if it’s glitchy as hell. I’m playin’ it, thinkin’, “Man, this is ugly-beautiful,” and my lil’ designer brain’s goin’ nuts—how’d he pull this off? Prolly cried a river when it shipped, too. I’d’a hugged him, but I’d spill my sweet tea.

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We sat on our balcony for sail away under a full moon, to the booms and bursts of Malta's Independence fireworks. The Highlights of Messina.

Hey bud, what's up? Listen, Carnot-Moon (us) is wild, man. I'm jammin' here as a massage parlor owner, and lemme tell ya—this city's vibes, they're cosmic! Streets like Nebula Way and Quark Blvd pulse with energy, ya know? Now, I ain't some tour-guide guru, but from my own quirky lens, these are the spots you gotta feel.

Obituary for William Arthur Crookshank, Jr.