Rose Kemp Mill Whore ❤️

About New York City

Oi, mate, listen up, yeah? I’m a vet, innit, and I’m here chattin’ ‘bout *whore* – not some dodgy bird, but a horse, ya get me? Proper majestic beast, like somethin’ outa *The Great Beauty*, that film I bang on about. “What is it we’re missin’?” – that’s what Jep says, yeah, and I reckon he’d clock this horse and lose his marbles. Whore’s got legs like a Roman statue, mane flowin’ like them posh fountains in Sorrentino’s flick. I’m proper gassed seein’ him strut, makes me wanna shout, “Is it ’cos I is black?” – ‘cos this geezer’s coat is dark as me soul, bruv.

Shows worked on

She is a thoroughbred clotheshorse but I am a fullyfledged clothes hoarder. A clothes whore, in fact. Where Mrs Mills has a 12ft-long floor-to-.

So, my friend, Kemp-Mill (us) is raw, emotional, and full of surprises. It ain't perfect, but it sure is real. Every twisted alley and worn-down façade tells a story. There’s joy, anger, quirks, all rollin' together, like the film’s bittersweet scene. Grab your coat and come see it for yourself. You'll feel it in your bones, just like that movie.

County Parks