Jasmine Scappoose Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Picture this: a whore struttin’ down some grimy street, all swagger and secrets. Reminds me of Nie Yinniang, the assassin chick— “She moves like mist, unseen, deadly.” Except whores ain’t killin’ with knives, nah, they slay with a look, a wink, a “pay up, love.” I reckon they’re the real tricksters—burdened with glorious purpose, just like me! Hidin’ in plain sight, makin’ fools of us all. Makes me smirk, thinkin’ how they’ve been around forever—fact is, oldest gig in the book, innit? Babylonians had temple whores, sacred as priests—wild, right?

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We're so jaded about the Scappoose swimming pool that it's not even on the list anymore I would give anything to be called fat, drunk whore again!

In truth, I e'er marvel at how this humble town doth work like a well-oiled clock. Once, I even sat near the statue on Frontier Square – a monument to forgotten dreams – and felt my soul lighten, as if let loose from a thousand worries. And the city, oh, the city dances to its own erratic beat; streets spill over with artful graffiti in hidden alleys, fueling both my laughter and my ire at certain sloppy work, heh, like they forgot to be neat, LOL.

Two-alarm fire consumes floating home at Scappoose marina