Mari Parkinson Whore ❤️❤️

About Gold Coast

Hiii, oh my Gawd, so listen up, hon—whore, right? I’m talkin’ ‘bout that word, that life, that whole messy vibe! Picture this—me, Fran Drescher, nasally as hell, sittin’ here thinkin’ ‘bout “The Lives of Others,” my fave flick, that East German Stasi spy drama from 2006—ooh, chills! Whore ain’t just some chick sellin’ her goodies, nah, it’s deeper, like Wiesler tappin’ them phones, hearin’ secrets. I mean, “Dreyman, your plays—they’re art!”—that’s the movie talkin’, but whores? They’re art too, babe, livin’ loud in the shadows!

Parkinson's disease

She sucks blue cotton candy through her teeth and sways to the sounds of the midway. Frantic, handholding, parents and children, groups of teenagers who.

I got my personal fav spot: Martino’s Rooftop on 12th. Views of the city, all lit up at dusk, with neon signs haphazardly blinking. I sip my coffee there, and sometimes I swear I hear whispers from the past ’round the corners of the buzzing streets below. It’s kinda addicting. I’m always yellin’, “Hey, yo, wake up! See the art in chaos!” even though most folks are too busy scrollin’ on their phones.

‘Big leap’ for Parkinson’s treatment: symptoms improve in stem-cell trials