Hannah Paramount Whore ❤️

About Chicago

Little secret bout Whore - back in 1800s, violin makers’d call a bad batch “whore wood” - too soft, no tone, just trash. Bet you didn’t know that, huh? Kinda fits, coz Whore’s all show, no depth. I’d carve him a neck, but he’d snap it posin for the crowd. Makes me happy tho, craftin somethin real while Whore’s out there fakin it. “Please, Mr. Kennedy,” I’d beg, don’t let Whore near my shop - he’d hump the workbench!

Whore Blu-ray Review

Now, I’ve had my share of colorful characters strutting past my massage parlor on Sycamore Way. Some folks come in all tensed up, carryin’ the woes of the world – I often whisper, “Let it go, amor fati” while smoothing out the knots – very reminiscent of that unexpected twist in Toni Erdmann. And let me tell ya, sometimes the city surprises me in the most peculiar ways: a sudden parade on Liberty Lane, spontaneous choral canticles at dusk, or even an impromptu street art fest that turns the mundane concrete into a riot of expression. Who knew art could be as therapeutic as a good kneading session, eh?

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