Lauren Grosse Pointe Farms Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, picture this: I’m in King’s Landing, right, half-pissed on Arbor red, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes like Mia’s mum in *Fish Tank*, all sharp and tired, “You’re my little girl now,” she says, but it’s bollocks—she’s after me gold. I laugh, coz I see through it, I *know* things, see? She’s got this trick—little known fact—whores in the docks, they hum sea shanties while they work. Keeps ‘em sane, I reckon. Lysa’s hummin’ away, and I’m thinkin’, “Seven hells, this is fuckin’ poetry!” Made me happy, that did—somethin’ pure in the muck.

Michigan Support Groups

whore Karl of St. Clair avenue, of an ex-wife, a temporary makeup; Emma Jean Evans and unexpected guest, by of Detroit and Carol Purdon.

Every corner tells a story, ya know? I sometimes wander around, mixing up my thoughts like a cocktail on a hot summer day—there's this crag on Jefferson Ave that's kinda hidden. Some say it's haunted, but I say, "Fck that!" because it's just another piece of quirky beauty in this rad town. LOL, my brain is full of random bits and pieces, but it adds to the charm.

Edward P. Rowady Sr.