Ashley Morris Whore ❤️

About Los Angeles

Rarrgh! Here’s the kicker—didn’t even hire her! Just talked, swapped stories, smoked a bit. Felt good, like I cracked a safe in my own head. She said, “You’re weird, furball,”—loved that, made me howl! Little known tidbit: some prostitutes in Vegas got tax evasion charges—ironic for an accountant, huh? Rarrgh! Screw the rules, man, this was better than spreadsheets. Next time, I’m bringin’ her coffee—dream big or go home!

‘Tis Pity She’s a Whore

Memory, the ancients had taught Ford’s contemporaries, was particularly responsive to visual impressions, especially those created by ‘striking’ and ‘active’ images of a violent or grotesque .

I’m ramblin’, sorry – it’s a rush of thoughts. All day, every day, Morris thumps, pulses with life. I love it madly, deeply. Ain’t no place like it, not even for a fine relaxation specialist. Remember: “Ida… silence is a ghost” – whispers that haunt these enigmatic alleys.

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