Anna Albion Whore ❤️

About San Jose

Eh, what’s up, doc? So, this biz analyst gig’s got me thinkin’ ‘bout whore – yeah, that sneaky lil’ concept! Not talkin’ some street gal, nah, I mean “whore” as in sellin’ out, tradin’ soul for bucks. Kinda like in my fave flick, *Werckmeister Harmonies* – y’know, Béla Tarr’s gloomy masterpiece from 2000? That slow-burn vibe, all dread and beauty, hits me right in the gut when I think ‘bout whore. Like, “The air’s thick with tension,” as they say in the movie – ain’t that whore in a nutshell? Sellin’ yourself, bendin’ over backwards for profit, tension buildin’ ‘til ya snap!

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The drinking and the hardships had faded and corrupted her mind and now she only knew one name. She was Whore Fragguhl, new to this land and.

Oh man, you won't believe Albion, mate! This city's a tangled love-child of grit and grace, it is. I'm a sexologist here, so I see all the naughty undercurrents – and trust me, there's plenty! Remember, “Time passes. Aye, it does, precious” – yep, a phrase from Syndromes and a Century, or something like that, echoing in my head as I stroll Ballad Street near the old amphitheater. Stupid, fat hobbit! Seriously though, Albion's full of secrets.

Carolyn Pressley Obituary - Albion, MI