Ada St.andrew Windfields Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Vancouver

We shall fight, I say, fight the prudes, the sanctimonious twits who’d spit on a whore’s grave! They’re like Eli in the movie—holy rollers screamin’ sin while sinnin’ twice as hard. Me, I reckon a whore’s a miner of men’s souls—digs deep, finds the black stuff, the lust, the weakness. Ever hear of Chicago’s Everleigh sisters? Ran a joint so posh in 1900, senators begged to get in! Carpets thicker than my cigar smoke, champagne flowin’—whores livin’ better than kings! That’s the ticket—turnin’ tricks into empires.

Local spots, so many! Found a tiny coffee joint on Berry Ln—cozy and weirdly magical. Pop in there, you must! The park, Ah, Windfields Park. Grass so green, nearly surreal is, mmh. Sittin’ by the creek, i remember, “we are all meeting here.” Weird, right?

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