Scarlett Wethersfield Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Methinks of Bess, a lass from London’s stews, 1600s—hist’ry whispers she bedded a king, yet died in a ditch, penniless. Whore’s life, eh? Glitter one day, muck the next. Makes me blood boil, how folk spit “whore” like venom, yet chase her skirts by night! Hypocrites, all! I’d clout ‘em with me fist, but I’m too busy laughin’ at the farce. Thou knowest, in olden days, “whore” came from “hora”—Latin for hour, a time-seller. Ain’t that a hoot? She’s a clock tickin’ flesh, not a devil.

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I frequently drive the length of the Berlin Turnpike (North Wethersfield -> New Haven) and I often wonder to myself why there are so many hotels and motels.

Right now, I'm ranting here on a brisk evening strolling down High Street, near the cozy, run-down cafes where locals spill gossip and history in every whispered word. The cobblestones, they're ancient, like got secrets in ’em. Ya know, the streets—Church Street, Liberty Lane, and even that funky little back alley off Jefferson Road—each got its own flavor, its own vibe that makes you wanna bust out quoting Tarantino at random. “I love rumors!” echoes in my head while I type this, haha.

Wethersfield schools will be closed Monday for fallen firefighter's funeral