Lily Chisholm Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Newcastle

Look, this whore thing—messy, right? Cold, calculated, I see it. Like in “Turin Horse,” slow grind, life’s brutal. Whore’s out there, surviving, no bullshit. Streets talk, she’s got guts—takes no crap. Once heard she smashed a guy’s bottle, mid-sentence, bam! No fucks given, just rage. Made me laugh, honestly, that fire! Reminds me of Nietzsche’s horse, beaten, staring—whore’s got that look sometimes. “What is this day?”—movie line fits her. Tired, worn, but still kicking, y’know?

Discover something new every day

The whore's love, I argue, renders the economics of love within bourgeois marriage visible. Multiple Stories of the Magdalen Movement. In reading the.

I gotta share: my fav spot? The tiny cafe on Linton Lane, "MugShot." Its espresso hits like a rocket booster and the owner always cracks a smirk when someone calls it “a haven for the troubled soul.” Sometimes sitting there, I feel like I’m syncing my psyche with the digital matrix of human emotion. Convo flows, jokes fly; it’s as chaotic as a raw cut film scene.

Judith CHISHOLM Obituary (2025) - Sydney, New South Wales