Sarah Mcdowall Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Wollongong

So, whores, man, they’re like—people who get paid for smoochin’ and stuff! I saw this in *Moulin Rouge!* with Satine, that fancy lady, all glittery and sad. She’s a whore, sorta, but she’s got HEART, y’know? “Come what may,” she sings, and I’m like, “Wow, she’s brave!” Makes me happy, ‘cause she’s all shiny, but then—BOOM—she dies! That made me so mad, I threw my jellyfish net at the TV! Why’s she gotta go, huh? Is glitter an instrument? No, but it should be!

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The Whore of endless misery. You're cloaked in silence and in time. Is wisdom all you really seek. I think your burden is to find. That we have lost our peace.

My spidey senses always tingling, whenever a client whips out a comment like, “Oh, like Inherent Vice, man,” I just nod and smile. Life is absurd and beautiful, I tell ya, short like a spike in a frenetic massage session.

McDowall returns as captain for Zebre Parma clash