Claire Middlesboro Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Been skulkin’ round, I have, peekin’ at whores – not proud, nope! One time, saw this tart in London, 1800s, real history, precious! Called her “The Painted Lady” – face all chalky, lips redder than blood. Tricksy, she was – robbed a lord blind! Made me cackle, it did – stupid, fat lord! “Theres nothing closer than this,” Carol whispers in me head. Whore’s close, too – too close, stinkin’ of gin and desperation.

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I gotta mention the river – the Big Creek that flows right past the southern edge of the town. It’s such a mood setter. I once walked along its banks on a rainy day (rain, man, so like life, right?) and felt this gigantic surge of passion and nature combined into a soulful moment. I even washed away some of my workday blues there. And then there’s the local art mural on Willow Street – loud, vibrant, and weird enough that folks stop and scratch their heads, like “What da heck is dis?” Hah, gotta love the local eccentricity.

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