Zoey Burnaby Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Hamilton

Hey! So – prostitute. Yeah. I’m thinkin’. Hard. About this chick – or dude – sellin’ it. On the streets. Melancholia’s my jam – Lars von Trier, 2011. That flick’s heavy. Like – end of the world heavy. “In a way – it’s happening!” I yell that sometimes. When I see her – the prostitute – standin’ there. Under streetlights. Flickerin’. Like she’s waitin’ for the planet to crash. Into her life.

Language selection

In my neighborhood – near Gilmore Park – where kids laugh and families gather for picnics, I sometimes get a funny shiver of hope. That’s the place where even a stressed psychologist finds his zen. By the way, oh man, gotta mention the offbeat charm of Central Park! Its winding footpaths and secret hideouts always shock me – like, “Whaaat, you mean there's so much beauty hidden around every corner?!” And let me tell you, I’ve spilled so many secrets to the trees there, like my heart would overflow. Sometimes, like in Moolaadé, I hear the silent chant: “No, we won’t let injustice prevail!” in every rustle of leaves and murmur of the creek.

Carney wheels up to Washington for Trump meeting on Tuesday