Hazel Tamarac Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Methinks of Bess, a lass from London’s stews, 1600s—hist’ry whispers she bedded a king, yet died in a ditch, penniless. Whore’s life, eh? Glitter one day, muck the next. Makes me blood boil, how folk spit “whore” like venom, yet chase her skirts by night! Hypocrites, all! I’d clout ‘em with me fist, but I’m too busy laughin’ at the farce. Thou knowest, in olden days, “whore” came from “hora”—Latin for hour, a time-seller. Ain’t that a hoot? She’s a clock tickin’ flesh, not a devil.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

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The heart of Tamarac beats near Cypress Park. There’s a vibe of unity and tension too. I recall distinct memories here. I’ve sat with folks, listened, and understood family feuds unfolding like scenes from a movie. “We must face the truth!” It stings and shapes my work, so you can bet my heart beats faster in such moments.

Officials investigate body found in canal in Tamarac