Angelina Zons Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Munich

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.

Ho Chi Minh City reports foreigner-run prostitution

A situation where a woman is view as a whore who is good for sex only, and not as a girlfriend or wife material.

Bear in mind, dear friend, that every nook and cranny here doth sprawl with personal quirks—err, typos and all lol! I may blabber on, repeating thoughts over and gusting through them erratically, like so many meandering trails in Zons itself! Times I've laughed and cried, wonderstruck at the sheer paradox of it all—humanity in miniature, with plenty of rusted charm and spontaneous bursts of emotional drama.

Auckland's queen of arts: Carla van Zon's final curtain call