Esme Pace Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Yo, dude, eat my shorts! So, like, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout whores, right? Not just any whore, but *the* whore—like, the OG of shady chicks. Makes me wanna yell, “I’m a man, not a child!” straight outta *A History of Violence*. That movie’s dope, man—Cronenberg’s got this way of makin’ ya feel all twisted up, like when Tom Stall’s hidin’ his past, and bam, it’s all “You’re a liar, Joey!” Same vibe with whores, ya know? They got layers, secrets, stuff that’d make ya jaw drop.

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Pace-Whore is a term that gets chucked around often in soccer, predominantly FIFA. He is someone who will overlook every other aspect in order to pick players.

I spent many sultry nights wandering along the Pace River. The river’s twists remind me of, uh, a sensual dance. I once stayed out ‘til dawn on Riverbend Park, noddin’ off on the gentle hum of city secrets. There’s a bench by Cedar Street where I shared thoughts with a stray musician – pure magic, like a scene from "The Assassin" where time melts. Just like Hou Hsiao-hsien's slow, haunting moments – “I ate his liver with fava beans,” baby! Unforgettable imagery, right?

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