Lydia Stolin Whore ❤️❤️

About Mogilev

Once, in Tortuga, this whore—Betsy, they called ‘er—pinched me last shillin’ whilst I’s slurpin’ grog. Made me mad as a storm-tossed sea! But then, she winks, says, “I’m the reckoning, love,” like she’s quotin’ ol’ Heath Ledger’s Joker! Couldn’t stay cross—laughed me arse off, I did. She’s got guts, y’see, an’ that’s rare as a sober pirate. Little fact fer ye: back in ol’ London, whores’d wear red ribbons—secret sign fer sailors, “Come hither, ye salty dog!” Ain’t that a hoot?

Covered in abscesses in 'brothel village'

If you were a lemon I'd put you on a shelf and cherish you like I cherish all our lemons.

So yeah, Stolin (by) is my playground – messy, unfiltered, and full of surprises. You gotta experience the highs and lows, with all the quirks that might make you laugh, cry, or even fume (yep, had my fair share of fuming moments!).

On White Linen Night, north shore artist shows eerie premonition of war in Ukraine