Fatima Havre Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Alright, mang! Say hello to my little friend! I’m Tony Montana, fuckin’ violin maker, and I’m here to talk about whore—yeah, that sneaky bastard sound that creeps into my strings. Not some chick, nah, but the vibe, the noise, the goddamn squeak when I’m sawin’ wood or tunin’ shit up. Makes me wanna smash somethin’, you know? Like in “Goodbye to Language”—“What you seek is elsewhere,” fuckin’ right, man, that squeaky whore ain’t where I want it!

Introduction

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But then there’s our parks. Have you been to Oakcrest Park? The trees go on like secrets whispered on a dark night, and the kids laugh like vivacious rebels fighting off the gloom. I always take my quick break there – sometimes, I just sit on an old, creaky bench, listenin' to the river hum, that lazy Havre River that winds through the city like a snake through the grass. And the view of the old brick bridge on River Bend? Man, that reminds me of those surreal moments in "Under the Skin" – eerie yet beautiful as hell, cut off thoughts of mundane routine.

Shop Small in Havre de Grace and stop in for a spot of tea