Claire Woodrow Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Oh, and the church—don’t get me started! They’d burn a “whore” quick, but half them priests were smashin’ on the low. Makes me wanna flip a table, scream, “YOU FAKE ASS GLEANERS!” Varda’d nod, like, “The world bends what it can’t break.” She’d film that hypocrisy, slow-mo, with some sad-ass violin. Me? I’d just yeet a chair at it.

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He explains that Wanz burned the place down when Lorie — “that whore” — left, just he told her he would. “Who?” Call asked, looking at the.

And oh my gawd, the river! Yeah, Ol’ Slumber River (if you catch my drift). The water flows like a secret melody through the heart of Woodrow. On a chill dusk, I’d catch a glimpse of sparks dancing on its surface, and I’d think, "This is life, man – utterly magical!" kinda like when Amélie finds magic in the smallest things.

Woodrow W Halstead Obituary - Concord, OH