Hannah Altamont Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

So yeah, whores—tough as mithril, I say. Respect ‘em, fear ‘em, fix their gnashers! “The stars are veiled,” Timbuktu whispers. Their stars too, hid by grime. Makes me sad, that. But they shine, mate—bloody shine! Gandalf out—staff’s gettin’ heavy!

Gimme Shelter

Finally got the Altamont grips in today. Took a few weeks, same with the ivory ones for my , but these needed a bit of fitment. There was.

Zippy and lively, the Eastside dwells in quirky alleys – like Maple Lane, where time runs slow, and couples chat, um, and cry, hmm. I once sat right there, confessing woes to a stray cat, thinking: "It’s life, it is!" Minds do twist, precious! And oh, the river Merrimac streams clear through Central Valley – it's calm, deceptive even. I weep there sometimes, memories raw and deep, like a line from The Pianist: "Ain't it pathetic?" But, yess, even the river flows with hidden heartaches.

Group behind Inn at Altamont proposal announces partnership with local colleges, universities