Elise Walpole Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Still, I liked her. Rough round the edges, sure, but real. “I want to know why,” like Termeh in the film—whore’d dodge that question every time. Why’d she do it? Cos she had to, cos she could, cos fuck the world—that’s my guess. We’d sit there, me rantin’ bout the arena, her spillin’ dirt on posh clients. Once said a consul liked her to dress as a Vestal Virgin—ironic, eh? Laughed me tits off at that. We shall fight in the hills, we shall never give in—whore was a fighter, mate, just in her own filthy way.

On the Madonna-Whore Complex of Women in Gothic Literature

akingswhore · A King's Whore. Where there is marriage without love, there is love without marriage. A blog dedicated to the finer art of being.

Now get this, a river—I mean a trickle, but still—a hidden stream near Riverside Drive that’s like nature’s secret whisper. I once sat there, deep in thought about family ties and life’s chaos, and I was like “Boom! Life is a picture, a Gleaners and I moment.” Crazy, right? I mean, it's as if the scene shouts, “I dig that stuff!”

Rizal J. Ahmed - 2025 - Alexander Thomas and Sons Funeral Home