Harper Bainbridge Island Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Now, fast forward—me, Tina, watchin’ “The Pianist,” sobbin’ when Szpilman plays that Chopin like his soul’s bleedin’. “What is it? What’s the matter?” his sister asks, and I’m yellin’ at the screen, “Life’s a whore, that’s what!” ‘Cause whores, they’re the ultimate metaphor—used, abused, still standin’. I’m typin’ this so fast, prolly fucked up “metaphor” back there—meh, who cares? You get it. They’re scrappy, like Szpilman hidin’ in rubble. Love that grit, makes me happy—tough bitches win.

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But if you poke around Bainbridge, it won’t take much to get spooked at a couple of island spots. Fort Ward and its gun batteries are no longer capable of firing shots, but they do fire your .

Ever walked around the Japanese American Exclusion Memorial? Deep. Makes you think. History hits you hard there. I always pause. So many feels, dude.

Bainbridge Island briefs