Stella Alloa Whore ❤️❤️

About Birmingham

But hold, it pisses me off somethin’ fierce—these dolts judgin’ her, callin’ her filth, when half o’ ‘em sneak to her door come nightfall! Hypocrites, bah! I’d clout ‘em with a tankard, I would. Yet—stay thy rage, heart—there’s a spark o’ joy too. Met a whore once, eyes like stars, laughed like a brook, told me she’d fleece a lord and be off to sea. “I’m no piglet,” says she, bold as Chihiro facin’ Yubaba. Made me cheer, damn it—pluck in a pit o’ snakes!

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But then, outta nowhere, it starts to rain. I mean, come on! I just wanted five minutes of peace! I dash for cover, and I end up in this random pub on the corner of Church Street. It’s cozy, and the smell of chips hits me like a wave. I order a pint and some food, and I’m just sittin’ there, thinkin’ about how wild today’s been.

Hard-right candidate secures decisive win in Romania’s presidential vote