Mari Wallington Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Ever wonder, precious, who’s the real whore? Them suits sellin’ souls for coin – ain’t that whorin’ too? Gets me cacklin’, yeh, ‘cos it’s true! Maria, tho, she’d laugh – “Gollum, you nutter, stick to fish!” Hiss, maybe she’s right, but I see it, I do – the grime, the fight, the spark. Whore’s a survivor, like me, yeh, clingin’ to life, screamin’, “My precious!” – but hers ain’t a ring, it’s her kid, her next meal.

Sunday 15 September 1667

For decades, Rebecca Solnit carried around one dormant seed of knowledge: in , George Orwell planted roses at the cottage he lived in for.

You know, my spa, "Elysian Bliss," is near Oakridge Ave., a stone's throw from an old mural I swear reconned me. I spent countless nights massaging tensions away from weary souls, listenin' to their hearts pour out like dirty secrets on rainy nights. Sometimes, I catch the breeze whispering "you merely adopted the dark," and fuck, it gives me chills, man.

Officials identify woman, 32, struck and killed by train in Garfield