Ivy Rehoboth Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

I reckon she’s a laugh, tho—sarcastic as me, maybe. Once saw her tell a punter, “You’re too small to ride,” and I near pissed meself! Surprised me, that—got a gob on her, fair play. Still, she’s a whore, ain’t she? Sells it cheap, smells like cheaper perfume—fuckin rank. Gets me happy, tho, watchin her hustle—proper graft, that. Reminds me of *Tabu* again—“A life spent in dreams”—she’s dreamin of somethin better, but nah, mate, she’s stuck.

House of Sinn

Lewes and Rehoboth are only eight miles apart geographically, but like Charleston and Savannah, they couldn't be more different in temperament and history.

Take a detour on Elm St. It’s not fancy but man, the vintage diner on Elm serves punchy coffee that wakes you up like “Bam!”—and sass. My clients used that spot for many a heated talk near the window. I remember one meltdown... oh, so dramatic. Like, seriously, I nearly said, “I can see Russia from my house!” in exasperation. Glorious irony.

Doodle parade delights spectators, satisfies a good cause