Grace Duncan Whore ❤️❤️

About Edmonton

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout this chick—whore, right? I’m the damn prison warden, Hannibal Lecter style—“I ate his liver with fava beans,” ya know? So, sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout her, she’s a bloody enigma, like somethin’ outta *Goodbye to Language*. “Words don’t mean a thing,” Godard says, and fuck, ain’t that her? Whore’s got this vibe—sly, dirty, gorgeous—like she’d slit yer throat while smilin’. Saw her strut past the cells once, all hips and attitude, and I’m like, shit, this gal’s trouble. Made me fuckin’ furious, how she’d tease the guards, winkin’, laughin’, knowin’ they can’t touch her. Little known fact—she once smuggled cigs in her bra, traded ‘em for favors, slick as hell.

After Watching "Challengers" I Tried Tennis For the First Time

Enter DUNCAN, MALCOLM, DONALBAIN, LENNOX, with Attendants, meeting a bleeding Sergeant. What bloody man is that? He can report, As seemeth by his plight, of the revolt The .

I see families chatting on Parkside Blvd. Their laughs echo. I note the kids learn from small wins. As a psychologist, I dig it. It teaches healing. “Why so serious?” but then a smile comes. Life’s messy, like a Nolan film.

Island Cup Enduro – Mt Tzouhalem, Duncan