Genesis Draper Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Me, I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’—whore’s a ghost. Haunts ya. Seen it in dives, mate, girls with dead eyes. Breaks me heart, it does. We hates it! But—ugh—society’s all, “Oh, it’s just work.” Bollocks! It’s a trap, like Jean-Dom’s locked-in hell. “Hold fast to dreams,” he says. Whores dream too, don’t they? Makes me sad, precious.

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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