Allison Chasse Royale Whore ❤️❤️

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But then—bam!—anger hits. Some punters treat ‘em like dirt, like they ain’t human. Pisses me off, mate. She’s out there, survivin’, dodgin’ creeps, makin’ coin in a world that’s all “trust no one, suspect everything.” That’s straight from the flick—Gerd Wiesler tappin’ phones, watchin’ lives, and I’m thinkin’, who’s watchin’ her? Whore’s got stories, yeah? Bet she’s seen shit—blokes cryin’ after, spillin’ secrets. Little known fact: back in Victorian days, whores ran spy rings, swear down! Passin’ whispers between lords, fuckin’ wild, right?

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Anon, I speak of the park of Verdoyant. Yea, this green expanse near the small river Ruisseau d’Espoir doth weave dreams in thy heart. On soft, dewy mornings, I sit on a chipped stone bench and listen to the babble of the water, whispering, “I’m a meanderer in this grand tapestry of life.” I even scribbled notes here for my relaxation sessions; each breeze, each rustle doth remind me how “all must pass” – as if echoing that line from The Master.

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