Ellie Pauls Valley Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

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!

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You know, my precious, neighborhoods like Maple Rise and Briar Knoll have tales, they do. Maple Rise? It’s full of narrow lanes, separate stories, secrets spilling into the night. Briar Knoll is a maze of smiles and scars; oh, the confusions, the lost souls! Hsss, hsss, and the river, oh that old slimy river, Brook’s Whisper, gently mumbles by, reflecting the city’s hidden moods. Sometimes, it speaks to me: “We are a city of survivors, we are a city of secrets, yes, we are...” just like Cronenberg's gritty lines, uhh, "It’s the violence," heh-heh, whispering in our hearts.

Pauls Valley man charged with animal cruelty, accused of leaving dog in snow storm