Esme Cromwell Whore ❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Once heard a tale – some whore in Paris, 1800s, saved a kid from a fire. Nobody cared, ‘course. “Flung into this world,” like Carol says, but no one catches her. We’s weepin’ for that, a bit. She’s a hero, damn it! Not just a quick fuck. We’s exaggeratin’ maybe, but who cares? Whore’s a riddle, a laugh, a slap in the face. We loves it, we hates it! What’s yer take, precious?

Thy source for the A-Z of 17th-century history!

I been livin’ here fer years now, see? And as a pleasure coach, I pay extra mind to the hidden gems. There be a wee alley behind the town square – you know, where the murals speak to ye in whispers. “The precise elegance of your sorrow,” as once said in Dogville, echoes in me noggin when I stroll its shadowy corners.

The historic Grade II listed Essex manor house once owned by Oliver Cromwell that could be turned into a hotel