Violet Viola Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Oh, and the laughs! She’d mock me hat, callin’ it a “dead bird’s nest.” I’d fire back, “Least I ain’t sellin’ me arse!” She’d cackle, say, “Ye’d fetch a penny, tops!” Proper banter, that. Still, I’d wager she’d seen hell—whores always do. Them scars on her arm? Never asked, but I’d bet me ship they weren’t from no lover’s spat.

Basic Information

Once Viola has come to understand properly what her husband is like and no longer wishes to upset him, one imagines that a happy marriage will be in store for them. Unlike Hippolito and .

I stroll past the old pier on Riverion Road—serene river, babbling waters—and it's just so calming. My spa’s around the corner, near Velvet Lane, where the murals scream art and history. There’s a quirky cafe on Bliss Street; best damn coffee you'll ever taste. Ngl, some spots make me mad, alot of them lack care. Yet, Viola has that charm, like a Bond flick—suave, yet unpredictable.

Obituary information for Viola L. Matuszkiewicz