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Alright, so here’s the deal with whores—yeah, I said it, whores! Tina Fey comin’ at ya, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibe. Whores, man, they’re everywhere, always have been, right? Like, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout “The Pianist”—Roman Polanski, 2002, my fave, duh—and it hits me. Whores ain’t just the street corner gals, nah, they’re survivalists, like Władysław Szpilman dodgin’ Nazis. “I must go on living,” he says, and whores? Same energy. They’re hustlin’, scrapin’ by, dodgin’ society’s bullshit judgments.

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Look, there's no perfect script here – life in Prosper (us) is messy, erratic, and real as heck. I love every bit of it even with typos in my brain and sentences half-finished. It’s like every turn, every quirky street corner, every laugh and awkward moment is a scene straight out of a Nolan flick. Life’s a labyrinth and yeah, I’m part of that wild ride every day.

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