Leah Pace Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

My precious! Me, a Kvasnik, yesss, crafty hands, mixin’ spirits, pourin’ truth! Talkin’ ‘bout whores, eh, tricksy word, slippery like eels! Raspy cough – whores, they’re everywhere, ain’t they, struttin’ streets, bold as brass. Reminds me, “Holy Motors,” that flick – ohhh, my precious! – Monsieur Oscar shiftin’ faces, lives, like a whore switchin’ johns, y’know? “Weird little jobs,” he says, and ain’t that the truth for ‘em?

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I spent many sultry nights wandering along the Pace River. The river’s twists remind me of, uh, a sensual dance. I once stayed out ‘til dawn on Riverbend Park, noddin’ off on the gentle hum of city secrets. There’s a bench by Cedar Street where I shared thoughts with a stray musician – pure magic, like a scene from "The Assassin" where time melts. Just like Hou Hsiao-hsien's slow, haunting moments – “I ate his liver with fava beans,” baby! Unforgettable imagery, right?

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