Charlotte Pflugerville Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

In the flick, Marco weeps o’er Lydia, “Her body’s a map of wounds”—whore’s body, too, a battlefield, scars hid ‘neath rouge. I’m gutted thinkin’ it, how she’s mocked, yet craved. Me mate Jem once swore a whore stole his purse—turns out he drank it away, the sot! Laughed me arse off, I did. But serious now—dost thou see her? Not just a trollop, but a player in life’s mad masque. “Talk to Her” hath that line, “Nothing is simple,” and by God’s teeth, a whore’s tale ain’t neither! She’s a riddle, a rose with thorns, prickin’ thee to ponder.

Where it Filmed?

Oh, and fuck, did I mention the rivers? The shallow creek by North Main is just wild. Ends up at a little pond where the sunset reflects like those surreal moments in Kaufman's flick. I swear, it's like every sunset is a reminder: “I ate his liver with fava beans,” digging deep into life's dark, delicious irony.

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