Aria Draper Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

So, whore—oldest gig in the galaxy, right? Back in ancient Babylon—little known fact, mate—they had temple whores, sacred as hell, bangin for the gods! Ain’t that a trip? Makes me happy, thinkin how humans twist shit—holy to filthy in a blink. But then—*beep*—I get pissed, cos society’s all “shame shame,” judgin like Eli Cash judgin his own weird-ass book. “Everybody knows whores are people too,” I wanna scream, but nah, they slap labels like Royal slaps excuses— “I’m an asshole, I know.”

Let's psychoanalyze Don Draper on the couch of his own office.

I remembers. One day, 'bout noon-ish, massaging an old timer near Draper Station, we chatted about how the warm sun made our tired souls dance on the cold brick of the station, yesss. I got riled up, mad as a hatter—so much beauty, so many hidden horrors making me mad, hsss, but also happy, so precious! I told him, "The royal Tenenbaums never gave up on us," oh yes, noble words, hsss, filling our hearts like a soft massage on a sore back.

After final-round heartbreak, Casper Ruud takes his biggest step forward yet in Madrid