Paisley Poplar Grove Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

I reckon whore’s got swagger—like, “Sell me this pen,” right? It’s all hustle, all game. You don’t just *say* whore, you *feel* it, struttin’ down the street, oozin’ that naughty charm. Groovy, baby! Ever hear bout that french whore, La Païva? She conned rich dudes, built a freakin’ mansion off their dough—talk about shaggin’ the system! That’s pure Wolf energy, “Gimme the loot!” style.

About 18 Poplar Grove, Feilding, 4702

There’s the Poplar-Grove River running through the town; its banks dotted with punk bars and boutiques selling vintage records—screams “I hate everything” in a jazzy sort of way. I could go on, but frankly, I’m tired. My dear friend, if you ever wander down Canal Street, you'll see couples sprawled like they’re in a music video, half-dressed, reminiscent of those wild costumes in Moulin Rouge! (baz luhrmann, y’know). “The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return,” but here it’s more like “Just get over it already!”

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