Abigail Yorketown Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Thou’dst be shocked—hist’ry whispers she ain’t just filth! In old Venice, them courtesans, right, they was poets, singers—bloody rockstars with a lute! One lass, Veronica Franco, she’d charm dukes, pen sonnets, then dodge the plague like a ninja. Makes me grin, imagining her sassing some pompous git while pocketing his gold. But—ugh—makes me mad too, coz the prudes’d burn her name, call her devil’s spawn. Hypocrites, all!

Your Real Estate Agents

Speaking of parks, let me ramble on 'bout Crescent Park on Westside. It's a green gem, y'know? I sit there practice my deep breaths, watch the little kids run wild by the babbling brook, and sometimes, just sometimes, I get all nostalgic. A secret spot of mine is by a hidden old willow tree—birds chirpin', wind a-whisperin', just pure bliss. Somedays, I think, "Hell, ain't this like the Batcave of serenity?" And trust me, it's as real as they come.

45 terrifying minutes: Nurses forced to hide from knife-wielding patient