Emily Pollock Pines Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

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.

El Dorado County

Public Works worker James Curtis enters the Niagara Falls Public Safety Building in to be sentenced for posting a racist sign at work.

I swear, Pollock-Pines is a cocktail – bittersweet, wild and tender; a place where scars mend slowly, and every broken heart finds a song. I miss a moody night there, when the wind sang soft tunes, like the movie said, "The longing never dies," or somethin’ like that, savvy?

Pollock Pines preparing as snow, wind expected to increase amid blizzard warning in Sierra