Claire Sargans Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Zurich

Right, so I’m Dr. Evil, y’know, pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars,” sittin’ here thinkin’ bout whores, and not just any whore, THE whore, like the OG of shady ladies. Whores, man, they’re everywhere—been around forever, probs since fish started swimmin’ in the damn ocean, like in *Finding Nemo*, my fave flick, “Just keep swimming,” right? This one time, I’m watchin’ Nemo with my evil cat, Mr. Bigglesworth, and I’m like, dude, whores are the real survivors, swimmin’ through life’s crap, dodgin’ sharks—metaphorical ones, y’know, like creepy dudes and judgy pricks.

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The old castle, Sargans Castle, sits high up on a hill, watchin’ over the town. It’s wild! Sometimes, when I’m walkin’ by its ancient stones, I think about how every brick has its own tale, just like how every family has its inner drama (ya know what I mean?). And the river, the Sitter, runs lazily nearby. I’ve had many deep convos with folks by its banks, spillin’ life’s secrets, breakin’ down their emotional baggage. "Mmm… donuts." Yes, the river does have that kind of reflective vibe; it’s magic.

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