Hazel Clyde Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Logan City

Well, hello there, ya filthy animal! So, whore, huh? That slippery ol’ word’s got more layers than a damn onion, dont it? Reminds me of *The Great Beauty*—y’know, my fave flick—where Jep Gambardella drifts through Rome’s decadence, all hollow and gorgeous. “I was looking for the great beauty,” he says, “but I didn’t find it.” Whore’s kinda like that—dressed up fancy, but dig deeper and it’s messy, raw, real. Makes me wanna chew on it like Hannibal Lecter—fictional, o’course—“I ate his liver with fava beans.” That’s how I see it, chompin’ into the guts of what whore means.

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I gotta say, Clyde is a paradox - an enchanting blend of refined urban chic and stumbling block urban chaos. Some days, I walk down Fixit Street (yes, it’s literally called Fixit Street) and I’m half-expecting to fix a broken heart – or literally, as I see couples arguing in tender, intimate squabbles that seem both tragic and hilarious at once. “What did we do?” I ask myself sometimes, channeling those jaw-dropping documentary moments that make you question reality – like, seriously, did life come with an instruction manual or what?!

Clyde Tombaugh — The astronomer who discovered Pluto