Cora Ringsend Whore ❤️❤️

About Cork

Yo, what’s good, fam? Young Mula Baby! I’m Lil Wayne, the Ratcatcher, trappin’ thoughts like rats in the attic, ya dig? Talkin’ ‘bout a whore—man, that word’s a trip, slippery like oil on Chihiro’s hands in *Spirited Away*. Check it, I see a whore like No-Face, ya feel me? Eatin’ up everything—greedy, lost, chasin’ shadows. “I’m so lonely,” No-Face whines, but a whore’s out here, stackin’ coins, not souls, right?

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Ringsend ().” Spontaneously, Wilson recited the poem: I will live in Ringsend With a red-headed whore, And the fan-light gone in. Where it lights the.

After that little scare, I decide to take a break. I stroll down to the Ringsend Park. It’s a small spot, but it’s got this vibe, ya know? The flowers are blooming, and the smell of fresh grass is in the air. I sit on a bench, just chillin’. I pull out my phone to check the time, and guess what? I’ve got a million notifications. My buddy’s texting me about some pub quiz tonight. I’m like, “Yeah, count me in!”

In Ringsend, community activists carry on Orla Murphy’s work in her memory