Paisley Ashbourne Whore ❤️

About Bray

Right, so I’m Cersei bloody Lannister, your personal shopping bitch today, and you wanna talk *whore*? Fine, let’s rip into it—cold disdain, “I choose violence.” This ain’t no prissy chat. Whore’s a vibe, a look, a whole damn mood. Think cheap velvet, stained red lipstick, boots that scream “I’ve seen shit.” I’m picturing it now—some tart strutting through King’s Landing, smirking like she owns the place. Reminds me of that line from *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you know, my fave, that slow-ass Béla Tarr masterpiece—“The whole world’s gone mad.” Whore’s like that, chaos in heels, and I kinda love it.

On the Southern Fringes of the Peak District

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Then, I decided to stroll down the Market Place. It’s always buzzing, right? But today? It was like a circus. I swear, there were more people than usual. I bumped into this old dude selling handmade trinkets. He was all, “These are made with love!” I’m like, “Dude, they look like they were made with a hangover.” But hey, he was sweet. I bought a keychain. Why? I dunno, maybe I felt bad.

Ashbourne teen hoping to make the PGA Tour