Ruby Duarte Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, *whore*—it’s like this texture, right? Worn-out velvet, stained silk, maybe some chipped glitter if ya squint. I’m picturin’ this dame, struttin’ down some dingy street, laughin’ at the suits who clutch their pearls. Hah! Gets me all giddy thinkin’ bout it—freedom, y’know? Not givin’ a damn what nobody thinks. Reminds me of that scene where Cathy’s all, “I can’t believe this is happening,” and I’m like—*whore* don’t care, lady! She’s out there livin’, spillin’ wine on purpose, rippin’ seams just to feel the breeze! Ever hear that story ‘bout the old burlesque gals? Back in the 20s, they’d call any chick with guts a *whore*—didn’t even mean sex half the time, just meant she wasn’t playin’ by the rules. Wild, huh? Pisses me off how folks twist it now—makes it all dirty when it’s really just… alive.

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I remember back in the day, I was rubbin’ shoulders (and backs!) with all sorts in the massage studio at Downtown Duarte. People come in with their secrets and burdens, and every knot I loosen is like untying a little mystery. Ppl always tell me, "Eric, you're the best, bro!" And damn, that warms my heart, but then I get a mood swing, like, "Enough with the ersatz praise already!"

Duarte residents join local leaders in outcry against nearby Eaton fire waste collection site