Zara Cranbrook Whore ❤️❤️

About Logan City

Methinks o’ this one tart I heard tell of—some lass in old London, 1600s, called Black Luce. Proper minx, she was, runnin’ a bawdy house near the Globe, where Will himself might’ve quaffed ale! Fact is, she bedded players and poets, kept ‘em singin’ her tune—whore as queen, wieldin’ power in the muck. Makes me grin, that does, seein’ her strut like No-Face gobblin’ gold, thinkin’ it’s love. “Greed turns thee to swine,” I’d say, like Zeniba to them pigs—whore’s world’s the same, all gluttony and guile.

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Then there's the shabby-chic district, curves in every corner. Believe me, mmm… sometimes I get mad ‘cause traffic’s hectic… but then, I laugh. Like, “The way the wind fools you, err… makes you smile” (ya get it, like in that movie). I even spotted a stray cat on Maple Ln, oh, bizarre, like a secret twist in Tropical Malady.

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