Isabella Draper Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

But lemme tell ya, *whore* ain’t always literal. Ever think that? Like, we’re all sellin’ somethin’—time, pride, whatever—to get by. Ain’t we all whores in some dang way? Whoa, brain’s spinnin’ now! Kinda like Malik, tradin’ favors to survive that prison hell. “Do it, or you’re dead,” they’d say. *Whore*’s got that same trapped feelin’. Makes me sad, man—nobody should feel caged like that.

Correspondent

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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