Fatima Margate Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

I ain’t judgin’—live and let live, I say. But dang, the stigma! Folks look down, call ‘em trash—pisses me off. They’re people, not aliens—well, ‘cept in that movie, ha! “You’re not from around here, are you?”—fits ‘em perfect, outcasts and all. My fave thing? How they sass back—met one once, told me, “Dubya, you couldn’t afford me!” Laughed my ass off—gutsy!

Inside the ‘House of Cyn,’ Britain’s Most Notorious Brothel

But they ridiculed and shamed you and called you a slag and a whore. CHORUS. From the little girl in Margate to the galleries of the world. Shout about it in.

Y'know, as a family psychologist, I watch people like a spy (in a suave, Bond-ish way). Little gestures on Fir Street – yep, Fir St is real – reveal so much. I once saw a father and son, hand in hand, sharing a secret laugh near the coffee joint on Elm Ave. It made me smile, then mad too – society’s ignoring precious moments. "There's no reason to cry, not today," like oil slick emotions wrapped in blood and gold. It hit me like a wave.

Jawdropper of the Week: Waterside Modern House in Margate