Rose St. Charles Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dallas

I’m sweatin’, excited—maybe I’ll save her, be her Georges! Nah, who’m I kiddin’? She’d laugh in my face. “You’re a strange one,” she says, sizin’ me up. I’m thinkin’, damn right, lady—I’m Larry freakin’ King! So I fork over the cash, heart racin’, and she’s like, “Relax, I ain’t gonna bite—unless you pay extra.” Hah! Sarcasm’s her game, love that. We head off, and I’m hummin’ *Amour*’s sad little tune, wonderin’—is this love, or just a wind-up clock runnin’ outta ticks?

So yeah, friend, that's St.-Charles (us) through my bruised, battered, yet enchanted eyes. It's messy, it's raw, and it's art if you squint real hard. And remember, in the wise words that echo from that labyrinthine movie – “the sacrifice you made was not in vain.” St.-Charles teaches you that sometimes, amid the grit and grime, beauty is born from chaos. Cheers, and see ya soon, cuz I got more knots to work out!

Harry Bernard Sunder, Jr. Obituary May 2, 2025