Hazel Lindenhurst Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Ooh, and the drama! Once saw a whore slap a guy—WHAM!—right outside my salon. He owed her cash, she wasn’t playin’! “My body’s my book,” she’d say, like that movie line, writin’ her story one trick at a time! *HAH-HAH-HAH!* Fran’s thinkin’, “You go, girl!” Tho, gotta admit, I’d never—my tush is too precious, hun! Whores tho, they’re bold, wild, unapologetic. Makes me wanna cheer, cry, and tip ‘em all at once! What a ride, right? *NANNY LAUGH* HAH-HAH-HAH!

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Does anyone know where the lamp light was in lindenhurst.

You ever wander in the narrow pebbly lanes of West End? It sorta reminds me of those long, drawn-out conversations in Ceylan's flick, where every slow zoom of the camera makes you feel life’s weight – heavy, man, but also oddly liberating in a lame kinda way. I swear, sometimes the town makes me mad when it rains too hard, leavin' gutters flooded and messin' up traffic on Cedar St, but then I remember, hey, beauty in chaos, right?

John Keating, Lindenhurst’s beloved ‘Mr. Softee man,’ at 94