Angelina Eliot Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Once, this twat on the dock goes, “Whiting’s lush, mate!” Lush? LUSH?! Idiot sandwich! I nearly chucked it at his head – “You’re a disgrace to tastebuds, you muppet!” Tastes like soggy cardboard, swear down. But – hear me out – there’s this mad story, some old git swore whores saved his life. Starvin’ in ‘63, caught a shoal, lived off ‘em. Reckon he’s lyin’, but it’s stuck in me head, y’know? “Truth is a bitter pill,” like in *Leviathan*. Bitter as that fish, mate.

Squalid seducers and smelly whores: Eliot as satirist

However, Eliot's depiction of women as a shifting vehicle for his evolving political critique, initially of an individualistic liberal humanism, and later of mass democracy, recurs throughout his .

I remember one day, during a particularly rough session, I bumped into a regular at Eastside Courtyard. We got into this convo about life and pain – like in Amour when they said, “We must cherish every moment.” And dude, I felt it hard in my bones. It was like every stroke of my massage was a message, you know? The city gives you one heck of a workshop in life lessons.

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