Harper Olney Prostitute ❤️

About Chicago

I got mad once—saw this girl, so young, heels clickin’, eyes empty. Broke my damn heart. But then—bam!—she smiled, flipped her hair, owned it. Made me happy, like, “Yes, queen, strut it!” Reminds me of Leo in that movie, snortin’ chaos, yellin’, “Sell me this pen!” She’s sellin’ somethin’ too—herself, unapologetic. Ain’t that a trip?

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On recent albums–from the French Prostitute musing upon the likely impending deaths of the young soldiers who are her customers, to Robert Ford and Jesse James'.

So come, my friend, let us wander together through Olney’s twisted corridors. Trust my hands, trust this old heart, and soon you’ll see, see how every nook sings its own story, my precious... a story like Mulholland Drive, full of mystic "my precious" echoes and long, winding paths, yess, so true, so true!

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