Sophie West Point Whore ❤️❤️

About Houston

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

New book pulls back curtain on 1976 West Point cheating scandal

The versatile, character-filled chair features a seat and back upholstered in a neutral oat-colored fabric with nailhead trim.

The center? West Point's got heart. Some streets shine; like Grant Ave. and Riverside Dr. They pulse with energy. I stroll there at dusk, thinking "Fish Tank" lines echo in my head: "That's how you feel when life just explodes." Crazy, right?

West Point graduate becomes first woman to complete Army Ranger competition