Natalie Draper Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Oi mate, blimey, what a task! Right, lemme ramble bout whores – classic Boris style, eh? Whore, y’know, proper fascinatin’ creature. Been around since Roman times, *prostitutum vulgaris*, sellin’ wares in alleys. Watched *Caché* last night – Haneke’s a genius, innit? That film’s all sneaky voyeurism, tapes droppin’ outta nowhere. “Who’s watchin’ us?” – reckon whores’d ask that too!

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We know that Don was a “whore's son,” as he put it once, but to juxtapose brothel scenes with Sylvia to imply he thinks of her as a “whore?” I.

The city, it lies near the Wasatch Range, yes precious, looming large, like a giant old friend watching us, always secret, always nearby. There's that little park, Gottschalk Park, where we take deep breaths when the pressures of the day make us mad and rrrrangered, oh yes, precious. Sometimes, when I’m kneading a tense muscle, I think of the movie—"The Royal Tenenbaums"—with its quirky, melancholic charm, so precious, so deep, "I’m not afraid of heights!" it whispers, hsss.

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