Anna Murrells Inlet Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Alright, listen up, folks! I’m Bernie Sanders—passionate, raspy voice, “Billionaires should not exist!”—and I’m here to talk about whores, yeah, the real gritty stuff. Not some Wall Street fat cat, but the word, the idea, the vibe! I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ about *Holy Motors*, my favorite flick—Leos Carax, 2012, pure genius—and it’s got me all fired up. Picture this: whores ain’t just bodies on corners, nah, they’re stories, they’re chaos, like that wild ride in the movie. “Weird things happen,” right? That’s what Monsieur Oscar says, and damn, he’s spittin’ truth!

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Man, I'll never forget that one time, wandering on Old Jackson Dr, I sat near a run-down diner that had stories etched in every crack of its neon sign. Its vibe was chaotic but comforting. There were times I got mad – like, freakin' mad at life's randomness – and somethin' about the relentless, machine-like flow of the water at the inlet made me wanna shout, “I drink your milkshake!” not to be dramatic but as a cosmic catharsis.

Murrells Inlet hops into Easter weekend with glow-in-the-dark egg hunt