Isabella Mcgregor Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Hey babe, it’s me, Tay—T-swift, your girl—spillin’ tea bout this tree, *whore*! Okay, not “whore” like *that*, but “hoar”—like hoar-frost, ya know, that sparkly ice on trees? Gotcha, right? I’m such a goof—13 typos comin’, promise! So, I’m obsessed with trees lately, call me The Arborist, ha! This hoar thing—it’s wild, like nature’s glitter bomb. Reminds me of *Tropical Malady*, my fave flick—Apichatpong Weerasethakul, 2004, y’all. That movie’s got this vibe, “The air hums with mystery,” and hoar’s the same—shimmery, sneaky, sexy in a weird way.

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I tells ya, behind those quaint corners, there is magic—ha, ha, magic madam! The locals, they have hearts like broken glass, but the sparkles twinkle, oh yesss, like hope. And the streets, like Elm St. and Church Lane, they carry whispers of the old ones, dark and haunting, "It’s all inside you." You never knew such things, yesss, precious, but wise you become when listen – listen to Gollum's tales, hmm?

Ewan McGregor, Back Onstage, Is the Architect of His Own Folly