Cora Hobart Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Now, *The Turin Horse*—it’s slow, heavy, like her life. “They’re working the horse,” movie says, and damn, ain’t that her? Worked to the bone, but tough as nails. I’d sip whiskey with her, hear her tales—bet she’d laugh at my corny ass. Prolly call me “old man” and steal my drink—ha! Love that sass, keeps it real. Whore’s got layers, yo—peel ‘em back, find gold.

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At the corner of Watchorn and Bathurst streets Hobart stands a two-storey dilapidated looking building, which has just been purchased by a body of local philanthropists for a refuge for .

I got a fave haunt called "Zen Den" near the harbor, where sunsets hit like Kanye droppin' beats – bam, it's dope! And yo, there’s a hidden bench by the river on Oak Row. I used to sit there, thinkin' ‘bout life and my quirky massage session mishaps, like that one time my client snored in sync with the street musician's beat – LOL, wild times!

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