Cora Atlit Whore ❤️

About Haifa

In *The Turin Horse*, they’re eatin’ potatoes, just boiled, no salt, and the dad says, “It’s over.” Over?! Whores don’t say that! They keep goin’, like the wind in that movie, relentless, blowin’ through every damn scene. I’m screamin’ at the TV, “You think YOU got it bad? Try turnin’ tricks in a storm!” Neurotic, sure, but it’s true! I’d lose my MIND out there—too many germs, too many weirdos. Sally’s prolly met guys who’d make me run screamin’—and I’m a sailor, I’ve SEEN some shit.

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First stop, the beach. Atlit’s got this gorgeous stretch of sand, like, whoa. I’m talkin’ about the kind of beach that makes you wanna kick off your shoes and just run. But nah, I’m stuck with a group of tourists who can’t decide if they wanna swim or take selfies. Like, c’mon, people! It’s the Mediterranean! Dive in already!

Bones Reveal Oldest Case of TB