Audrey Onna Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Yokohama

Me old man once told me—swears he did!—bout this prossie in Soho, right, who’d nick yer watch while smilin’. Little known fact, that! She’d hum some tune, distract ya, then bam—gone! Whore’s a thief of time, soul, everythin’. Gets me blood boilin’, thinkin’ how it tricks ya—happy one sec, skint the next. “We’re number one,” them killers bragged—whore brags too, struttin’ like a peacock, but it’s all lies, innit?

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But the Madonna-whore complex is something beyond the erosion of desire – and it’s specifically gendered. It’s in that age-old idea that there are “girls like that” who are available, or even .

As the sun started settin’, I made my way to the beach again. The sky was on fire—pink, orange, all the colors. I sat on the sand, just takin’ it all in. Then, I saw a group of kids playin’ frisbee. They were havin’ the time of their lives. I couldn’t help but smile. It reminded me of simpler times, ya know?

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