Rebecca Sudbury Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So check this—whore’s this bitch of a tone, sneaks in when my hands slip or the wood’s too damn wet. Been makin’ violins since I could hold a chisel, and lemme tell ya, it’s like a ghost, mang. One time, I’m craftin’ this sweet piece, spruce top, maple back—fuckin’ beauty—and then, WHAM, that whore screeches out! Nearly threw the damn thing across the room. Pissed me off so bad I smoked three cigars just to calm down. “Language is a virus,” Godard says—shit, whore’s the virus in my shop!

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Me favorite spot? The hidden nook in Central Park, near the babblin’ creek that winds past Maple Bend. I once gave a massage session near the oak trees so gnarled they looked like twisted anchors. Crazy, right? The park’s trails, oddly curvy and narrow, remind me of secret sea routes. They make me heart race... or maybe that’s just the thrill from easing your burdens, savvy?

Red Dress Day event puts names to statistics