Rebecca West Gate Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

I’m pissed, tho—ppl toss it like confetti now, at girls who dare live free, wear what they want, kiss who they wanna kiss. Like, who made u God, huh? Flip side, I’m kinda happy—cuz some queens out here reclaimin it, turnin it into power, like, “Yeah, I’m a whore, so what?” That’s fire. That’s Szpilman playin his piano thru bombs—defiant, alive, *human*. “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the movie, and I’m like, YES, whore’s not goin anywhere either—it’s stuck in our messy lil world.

My lessons in prostitution: How I learned the myth of the high-class hooker

The answer varies from woman to woman. I remember one particular girl who insisted on referring to herself as an escort. ‘Ah, good for you,’ I said to her. ‘I’m a whore myself.’.

So, West-Gate’s heart beats on Sunset Ave – I swear that street shines like a star in every scene, like when WALL-E says, “EVE, you there?” – smashin’ every routine vibe with cosmic love. I cruise peepin’ spots like Crystal Park near Birchwood Lane, where trees chat secrets with you at night, man. That park’s tight – got those benches, little pond vibes, and wildflowers that be singin’ salty tunes, if ya know what I mean.

Westgate Resorts founder and opioid awareness activist David Siegel dies at 89