Eliza Hobe Sound Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ *The Turin Horse*, my fave flick—Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky, geniuses, total geniuses—and it’s all bleak, right? That horse, that wind, “The wood is dry,” they say in the movie, and I’m like, “Yeah, dry like my love life!” But whores? They ain’t dry, nah, they’re out there, makin’ it happen, rain or shine. I picture this one gal, let’s call her Sally—prolly not her real name, whores always got aliases, fact of the trade—standin’ on some grimy dock, skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cigarette like she owns the damn port. And I’m like, “Good for you, Sally! Pretty, pretty good hustle!” But also—kinda grosses me out! All those sweaty sailors, me included—ugh, the hygiene, the STENCH. Makes me wanna shower just thinkin’ bout it.

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Summins’ wild, inner and genuine. Twists and turns, proper raw vibes. I’m keen for you to see the hidden charm, even when I’m spouting gibberish. So remember: "Anyone can cook love up!"—eyeroll aside, it's a proper goof day when you soak up PHobe-Sound. Yo, peace out and enjoy the madness!

Martin County Sheriff William Snyder talks storm damage in Hobe Sound