Ellie Seabrook Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

What pisses me off? The sanctimonious pricks judgin’ ‘em. Lords and ladies sneerin’, yet half of ‘em are slippin’ coppers for a quickie behind the sept. Hypocrisy stinks worse than a privy in summer. Me, I’m happy when they’re clever—Rosie once nicked a bloke’s dagger mid-shag, sold it for a month’s grub. Smart as a whip, that one. Surprised? Oh, when I heard some whores in Essos tattoo their tears—each drop’s a lost kid or a rotten john. Gut-punch, that. Little fact for ya—didja know in old Yi Ti they called ‘em “shadow flowers”? Poetic, innit?

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The river — yup, the Seabrook River, though it's small but full of character. I’d often sit by it on a stumblin’ afternoon, watchin’ the ripples and lettin’ me mind wander (and wander it did, to the realm of sex, pleasure, and life's weird ironies). Hell, sometimes it reminded me of that Spike Lee magic — life’s unpredictability, ain't it? “Life's a gamble,” I mutter, lost in the bubbles.

Seabrook man faces assault charges as fire marshal investigates possible arson