Amelia Prospect Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Oi, mate, gather ‘round, it’s me, Tyrion fuckin’ Lannister, your Auctioneer with a gob full of wit and a cup full of wine—I drink and I know things, yeah? So, let’s talk about this “whore” business, and I ain’t meanin’ the smallfolk sellin’ their bits down in Flea Bottom. Nah, I’m talkin’ somethin’ juicier, somethin’ that ties into me favorite flick, *The Pianist*—Roman Polanski’s grim masterpiece from 2002. Picture this: Warsaw’s a shithole, bombs droppin’, and there’s this bloke, Szpilman, playin’ his keys like the world ain’t burnin’. Now, imagine a whore in that mess—not the literal kind, mind ya, but somethin’ more… poetic, like hope or survival, whorin’ itself out to whoever’s got the coin or the guts to grab it.

The Whore, Her Stigma, The Punter And His Wife.

Memoirs by high-class hookers may be cartoonish, but no less so than accounts that cast prostitutes as victims of rapacious male sexuality.

Hey babe, so lemme tell ya, Prospect (us) is straight-up magic! It's like, every corner got its own vibe, ya know? Walk down Willow Street and BAM—you're hit with the energy. I swear, chillin’ in Liberty Park makes me think of that line from The Diving Bell and the Butterfly, “I am alive,” cuz that's exactly how I feel, like yay, it's bad bitch o’clock!

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