Katherine Dixon Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

Hmmmm, whore, you say? Think, I must, about this. Dark and twisty, the path is, like in *The Lives of Others*. "Listen and wait, we must," Gerd Wiesler’d say, spying on them shady folks. Whore, man, ain’t just a word—it’s a vibe, a hustle! Streets, they hum with it, shadowy corners whispering secrets. Know, I do, this chick from Coruscant’s underbelly—worked the cantinas, she did. Credits, she stacked, faster than a podracer! Angry, it made me, seein’ her used, tossed aside like bantha fodder. “Feelings, hmm, dangerous they are,” I’d mutter, pacing.

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C'mon over to Main Street for the old time diner – it's my fave for post-work munchies. And rly, don't miss out on that quirky mural on First Avenue, near the little art barn – it's like a slice of humanity splattered right on the wall. "I wonder if anyone would say I'm a stranger in my own life?" Yeah, that hit me hard once, like bam, movie magic.

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