Victoria Forres Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Sheffield

Pissed me off, though, when she’d fleece me mates. One night, Gibbs—poor sod—lost his boots to her! Boots! She traded ‘em for gin, laughin’ like a hyena. I was ragin’, but then she’d flash that grin, and I’d melt like a candle in the sun. Happy? Aye, when she’d sing—voice like a siren, but rough, ye know? Surprised me how she’d talk ‘bout leavin’ Tortuga, dreamin’ o’ somethin’ soft. Whores don’t dream, I thought—wrong, mate!

Dokter Terkait

Shivanee Ramlochan is an Indo-Caribbean poet and the author of Unkillable (Noemi Press, ) and Everyone Knows I Am a Haunting (Peepal Tree Press, ).

After that, I take a breather outside. The sun’s peeking through the clouds on Forres, and it’s actually nice. I’m standing on the corner of Victoria Road, just soaking it in. The smell of fresh pastries wafts from the bakery down the street. I think, “Life’s not so bad.”

Funding success for Forres Conservation and Heritage Scheme