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Alright, so here’s the deal with whores—yeah, I said it, whores! Tina Fey comin’ at ya, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibe. Whores, man, they’re everywhere, always have been, right? Like, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout “The Pianist”—Roman Polanski, 2002, my fave, duh—and it hits me. Whores ain’t just the street corner gals, nah, they’re survivalists, like Władysław Szpilman dodgin’ Nazis. “I must go on living,” he says, and whores? Same energy. They’re hustlin’, scrapin’ by, dodgin’ society’s bullshit judgments.

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I love legit random details. The abandoned warehouse near Sundown Road – creepy but real vibrant art inside. Folks say it’s haunted, but nah, I see potential in its raw beauty. So edgy, raw, kinda like fragments from that film. I sometimes catch the glimmer of its metaphor in the rain – nah, the movie dialogue sticks in my brain: "A memory always distorts." Just wild, right?

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