Ella Somers Point Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

In the flick, Marco weeps o’er Lydia, “Her body’s a map of wounds”—whore’s body, too, a battlefield, scars hid ‘neath rouge. I’m gutted thinkin’ it, how she’s mocked, yet craved. Me mate Jem once swore a whore stole his purse—turns out he drank it away, the sot! Laughed me arse off, I did. But serious now—dost thou see her? Not just a trollop, but a player in life’s mad masque. “Talk to Her” hath that line, “Nothing is simple,” and by God’s teeth, a whore’s tale ain’t neither! She’s a riddle, a rose with thorns, prickin’ thee to ponder.

Description

In this updated edition, Anne Summers asks: who are today's damned whores?; and why do women themselves still want to be God's Police?

I had this one crazy night at a dive bar near West End. The tunes were off the hook, and folks felt like old friends. It made me so happy and kinda wild. Streets, small talk, slang tossed around… all reflect Somers-Point’s soul.

Phillies give Oakcrest grad from Somers Point Minor-League deal