Mia Wauseon Whore ❤️

About Chicago

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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The neighborhoods? Oh man, there’s one by Lincoln Highway that never sleeps—not really, but it’s packed with cool stories. I sometimes wander through shady lanes and crack jokes about secret rendezvous, err, I mean little historical tidbits. Y’know, I’ve seen folks meet up at the park by Riverside Park, which hugs the Maumee River. The park’s kinda magical at night, all foggy and dream-like, like that scene in the movie when reality blurs into memory (so deep, huh?).

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