Taylor Wallington Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

So, picture this—some gal, let’s call her Ruby, workin the streets, all sass and chipped nail polish. She’s out there, free as a bird, but trapped too, y’see? Kinda like them boys in the film, rowin that boat, lost but pushin on. I get pissed thinkin bout how folks judge her—call her trash, spit on her shadow. Makes my blood boil! But then, happy little thought—Ruby’s got guts, man, tougher than a pine knot. Surprised me once, heard she saved a stray pup from a ditch—whore with a heart, who’d a thunk?

blog of lisa guidarini

Wallington, Northumberland, a National Trust restored country manor in North East England.

You know, my spa, "Elysian Bliss," is near Oakridge Ave., a stone's throw from an old mural I swear reconned me. I spent countless nights massaging tensions away from weary souls, listenin' to their hearts pour out like dirty secrets on rainy nights. Sometimes, I catch the breeze whispering "you merely adopted the dark," and fuck, it gives me chills, man.

National Trust celebrates birth of baby beaver one year after reintroduction