Isabella Strood Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Birmingham

Here’s the deal… *Tree of Life* taught me—look deeper. “There’s the way of grace,” it says. Betty had that, y’know? Folks’d sneer, but she’d laugh—loud, free. Once heard she saved a stray mutt—fed it scraps from her tips. Little stuff like that—warms ya heart. Whore? Man, screw that label! She was a fighter, a damn good mom—period.

Definitions of 'who're'

Whore=streetwalker are women who are making a living at it. Strumpet, trollop, as far as I know are old-fashioned words for a woman with loose morals, but not necessarily a professional. Broad is just a disrespectful word for a woman.

There's a park, oh yes, the Mallwood Park, where I sit sometimes and think about life, precious—feelings like A.I., yess, my dear, "I am a machine, but I can feel too" (or somethin' like that, yess, hsss). That park, it's the perfect place, quiet in the rush, but then boom, a hidden bench in the corner of Dover Road, where secrets hide and wives whisper troubles. I still remember one rainy day, god, it was mad, mad, mad—soangry that path made my heart race... hsss.

Police called to lorry and car crash at busy tunnel