Lydia Ries Whore ❤️

About Salzburg

Yo, what’s good? So, whore, huh? Man, that word’s a mess, just like Tom Stall’s diner in *A History of Violence*. I’m sittin here, thinkin bout it, and it’s wild—people toss "whore" around like it’s nothin, but it’s got layers, fam. Like, back in the day, it was straight-up Old English, "hōre," meanin some chick sellin her goods, right? But now? It’s a vibe, a flex, a slur—dependin on who’s yellin it. Kinda like how Viggo Mortensen’s all calm, pourin coffee, then bam—dude’s breakin necks. Sh*t flips quick.

Living Stream Ministry

To phrase it differently, is virgin/whore a statistically salient pattern in literature, and thus a reflection of deep prejudices in male psychology or given.

I can't forget the little park near my apartment on Cozy Crescent. I even had my first breakthrough session with an anxious teen there. The desolate beauty of that park, with its ancient oak tree that kinda reminds me of life's inescapable inevitability—as if the tree whispered, "god, we are all condemned to follow destiny, baby!" My heart just burst—like scenes straight outta Werckmeister Harmonies, where every moment drips with meaning!