Julia Flower Mound Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

Flower Mound Escort

I get hyped sometimes, and then angry. Like when I see litter near the trails—ugh, trashing our vibe. But then I smile when couples reunite by chance outside a cozy diner on River Bend. Spontaneity is the heartbeat here, ya dig?

Thrive Pilates to bring pilates classes, sauna to Flower Mound