Sarah Mbengwi Whore ❤️

About Douala

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

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My fave hangout? Yo, check out the old park near the Library Junction. I stroll there, frustrated sometimes cuz kids be loud, but then I see families laughing – far out! I get angry sometimes over how fast time flies or when people are just insensitive, but then I’m like “You know, memories are gnarly and vivid, like past lif'es crazy mix” – a bit like that film vibe.

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