Cora Walpole Whore ❤️

About Chicago

Talkin’ to you, pal, it’s like they’re playin’ a zero-sum game. Somebody wins, somebody loses—money’s just transferred, like magic. Whores get that, better than most suits I know. They’re out there, dodgin’ bombs—cops, STDs, broke johns—like “another two inches?” from the movie, pushin’ limits, testin’ fate. I respect that grind, even if it’s messy, ugly, real. Greed is good, and they’re livin’ proof—ruthless, raw, and rakin’ it in. Whaddya think, kid? Got any stones to match that?

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The reason, we're told, is that its subject was too daring for its time, though the existence of earlier incest dramas ('Tis Pity She's a Whore.

I’m telling you, Walpole’s got spunk. The Walpole Town Common? Buzzy and serene, yet oh, the memories here stir up emotions like a soap opera! Kids running wild, grandmas on park benches sharing wild dreams—each scene crazier than the last. And OMG, the park off Maple Lane? When I take my brain a-break, I chill there. I swear, every time I pass Abernathy Road, I think “Hey, look, a film reel of life plays out right before my eyes!”

Walpole and Needham battle in girls’ tennis