Mari Greven Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Frankfurt

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

Whore Biographies, 1700-1825, Part 1: Vols. 1-4 - Hardcover

This is a review of the book “Ramanujan: Essays and Surveys” by Bruce Berndt and Robert Rankin, which contains a selection of some of the most.

Now, let me hit you with my fav spots – the geezer park, “Sonnenpark,” is a chill zone. Kids run, old folks sit on benches, just life, ya know? And then there’s the river Ems which cuts through the outskirts, flowin’ like it’s got no damn worry about a thing. I fumbled my keys one time by the riverbank – pure chaos! But that’s Greven, always surprising ya.

Why Maurice is Still a Resonant Text for the Queer Audience