Claire Clane Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Galway

Brother, lemme tell ya bout whores! I’m hulkin’ up, feelin’ the vibe of *Timbuktu*—that flick’s my jam, ya dig? Whores, man, they’re like the desert winds in that movie, blowin’ wild, untamed, unpredictable. “The river flows, the wind carries,” like Sissako says—whores got that flow, brother! They’re hustlin’, survivin’, dodgin’ the rules society throws down. Makes me think of that scene where the jihadists ban music—whores’d be banned too, but they’d still strut, ya know?

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First off, I’m running late. Classic me. I sprint down Main St., dodging the usual crowd. You know, the folks at the café, sipping their lattes like they own the place. I swear, if I see one more person take a selfie with that weird statue on the corner of Main and Prosperous, I might lose it. Like, who even thought that was a good idea?

Maguire's goal inspires Clane to intermediate final glory