Amelia Hillcrest Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Oi, mate, listen up! I’m Bond—James Bond, suave as fuck, “shaken, not stirred.” So, we’re talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? Not just any tart, mind you, but the whole damn vibe. Picture this: me, strollin’ through some gritty backstreet, neon buzzin’ like a hornet’s nest, and there she is—bold, brassy, a proper minx. Reminds me of Godard’s flick, *Goodbye to Language*, y’know? All chaotic, sexy, and fucked-up gorgeous. “Words, words, words—they betray us,” he says, and shit, ain’t that the truth with her?

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I be messin’ with Hillcrest’s nightlife too – the jazz lounge on Prospect St, where smooth tunes and whispers mix in the dark. Sometimes, listenin’ to sultry voices, I get all reminded of the tender despair in that movie. Like, "the wind, it speaks my name," sorta deep, blowin’ heavy vibes through broken dreams and sweet embraces. But damn, those moments spark passion in my work, makin’ me wanna write endless notes on human intimacy.

Hillcrest assault victim identified