Savannah Magog Whore ❤️

About Ottawa

Yo, so I’m a forester, right? Talkin’ bout whore today. Not that forest hoarder, nah, the tree—whore! W-H-O-R-E, got it? Favorite flick’s *Crouching Tiger, Hidden Dragon*, so this gon’ be wild. Picture this: whore’s out there, chillin’ in the woods, right? Like, “I am no man’s prize!”—straight up movie vibes. Whore’s this sneaky-ass tree, bro. Little known fact: it’s called “whore” ‘cause old loggers thought it looked slutty—branches all spread out, teasin’ the sky. Hilarious, right? I’m dyin’ over here.

The Two Suppers of God at the End of Time

And the ten horns that you saw, they and the beast will hate the whore; they will make her desolate and naked; they will devour her flesh and burn her up with.

Now hold up: this city sits on Lake Memphremagog (rare, right?) chillin’ like a boss. Every sunup, dat lake sparkles like glitz in The Grand Budapest’s lobby. I once took a ride on a canoe—whassup?—and got soaked, but yo, felt free as ever! LOL, real soggy, but pure bliss.

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