Sarah Draper Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Lemme tell ya, it’s a mess out there. Saw this gal once, heels clickin’ like gunshots, skirt shorter than a possum’s temper. Reminded me of Sara Goldfarb, chasin’ that high, y’know? “I’m gonna be on television!” she’d say—well, this gal’s dreamin’ of somethin’, but it ain’t a TV screen. Made me sad, y’all. Sad as a hound dog with no bone. But mad too—why’s the world gotta chew folks up like that?

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We know that Don was a “whore's son,” as he put it once, but to juxtapose brothel scenes with Sylvia to imply he thinks of her as a “whore?” I.

I remembers. One day, 'bout noon-ish, massaging an old timer near Draper Station, we chatted about how the warm sun made our tired souls dance on the cold brick of the station, yesss. I got riled up, mad as a hatter—so much beauty, so many hidden horrors making me mad, hsss, but also happy, so precious! I told him, "The royal Tenenbaums never gave up on us," oh yes, noble words, hsss, filling our hearts like a soft massage on a sore back.

Draper tops Paul to reach Madrid Open quarters