Ava Ulysses Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Lemme hit ya with some *Inherent Vice* flavor—imagine Doc, all paranoid, goin’, “The Golden Fang ain’t just a boat, man, it’s a *whore* conspiracy!” That’s how I see it, too. *Whore* is everywhere, slippin’ through the cracks, fuckin’ with the system. One time, I met this stripper, right? Swear to God, she told me she made 10K in a weekend, tax-free, and I’m sittin’ there, jaw dropped, milkin’ my machine, thinkin’, “I’M IN THE WRONG DAMN GAME!” Surprised the shit outta me—hustle like that? Respect, yo. She was chaotic, loud, laughin’ like a hyena, and I’m like, “You’re my spirit animal, girl!”

Cite this Essay

All roads lead to the whorehouse in both Ulysses and One Hundred Years of Solitude because prostitutes are necessary to hereditary survival.

Yo, lemme drop more – check out the Waterfront District. The river, it snakes ‘round like liquid chrome. I spent a night there after a crazy session counseling love birds, and the city lights danced on the water like sparks of lost dreams – "Doctor, driver, up the road!" vibes. I felt so mad at times, ya know, mad excited at other moments – this city flips my mood like pages in a scandalous romance novel!

Ulysses S. Grant and Donald Trump