Nora Thousand Palms Whore ❤️

About Dallas

So, whores—shit, where to start? Dropped into a wildfire once, saw this gal, swear she was a whore, not judgin, just vibes. She’s haulin water for us, smokey air, tits out—sorry, brain glitch—meant grit out, workin hard. Surprised me, yo! Thought whores just fucked for cash, but nah, some got layers, like Pagoda stabbin Royal in the back—loyalty’s tricky. Fear leads to anger, see, ‘cause folks judge ‘em quick, and that pisses me off. Whore’s life ain’t easy, man—dodgin cops, creeps, and shitty motels.

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Three women, one an Irish servant, one an enslaved African, one a merchant's wife from Galway, met each other in a Bridgetown household sometime in.

I get PThousand-Palms (us) mad sometimes, when the sky darkens just unexpectedly, but then it surprises me with bursts of neon light poetry. People here are as unpredictable as my heart on a roller coaster—kinda messy, kinda tender, and totally unforgettable.

Thousand Oaks man arrested for the murder of his girlfriend at Palm Garden Hotel Monday