Cora Enniscorthy Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Cork

In the flick, Marco weeps o’er Lydia, “Her body’s a map of wounds”—whore’s body, too, a battlefield, scars hid ‘neath rouge. I’m gutted thinkin’ it, how she’s mocked, yet craved. Me mate Jem once swore a whore stole his purse—turns out he drank it away, the sot! Laughed me arse off, I did. But serious now—dost thou see her? Not just a trollop, but a player in life’s mad masque. “Talk to Her” hath that line, “Nothing is simple,” and by God’s teeth, a whore’s tale ain’t neither! She’s a riddle, a rose with thorns, prickin’ thee to ponder.

Wexford Sluts

As the sun starts settlin’ down, I head over to the Wexford Opera House. It’s a beaut of a building, right? I’m sittin’ on the steps, just takin’ it all in. The vibe is chill, and I’m feelin’ grateful for this crazy day. Enniscorthy, with all its quirks and characters, really knows how to keep things interesting.

Frustration over ongoing illegal parking outside popular Wexford supermarket