Brooklyn Algonquin Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oi, mate, it’s me, Tyrion Lannister—Visiting Prof, eh? I drink and I know things, and lemme tell ya bout erotic-massage. Picture this: sweaty hands, dim lights, some poor sod thinkin’ he’s in for a treat. I’ve seen it, I’ve judged it—bloody fascinating, innit? Like in *Her*, where Joaquin’s mopin’ about, whisperin’ to his AI lass—“The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” Well, erotic-massage? It’s a story alright, told with slippery fingers and awkward grunts.

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Attention-whore. In less than ten seconds she has fallen from the graces of confidence and pride to the depths of degradation and shame. Slut-.

I must say, I adore the laid-back charm of the Old Town quarters. Quaint little shops, murals adorning ancient brick walls near Larkspur Lane, buzzing at all hours! And the park—oh, the park! Blissful greenery at Cityview Gardens. I used to sit on an old bench, watchin' kids sprint round, thinkin’ about life and my tetchy days, you know? Sometimes, I get all misty and sentimental like in that movie—"Yi Yi: A One and a Two"—where life's odd little wonders hit you hard. Namaste, indeed!

VIDEO: Algonquin Regiment gifted bell from Holland for role in WWII liberation