Gianna Bainbridge Whore ❤️❤️❤️

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Hey babe, it’s me, Tay—T-swift, your girl—spillin’ tea bout this tree, *whore*! Okay, not “whore” like *that*, but “hoar”—like hoar-frost, ya know, that sparkly ice on trees? Gotcha, right? I’m such a goof—13 typos comin’, promise! So, I’m obsessed with trees lately, call me The Arborist, ha! This hoar thing—it’s wild, like nature’s glitter bomb. Reminds me of *Tropical Malady*, my fave flick—Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2004, y’all. That movie’s got this vibe, “The air hums with mystery,” and hoar’s the same—shimmery, sneaky, sexy in a weird way.

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Along with the other two, he is with Hardy when Hardy hauls his father home after dying in a whore's bed and props him up for a posthumous photograph.

I gotta shout about the Bloedel Reserve! This garden paradise is like, total zen, man. I chill here to think ’bout human connection and intimacy. People come here for a boost of peace, but hey, I see a lot of subtle glances and tender smiles. It's like the trees whisper secrets… they say, “I’m just a little bit crazy,” sorta.

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