Emma Wolcott Whore ❤️

About Dallas

But aye, the stench o’ it all—sweat, ale, desperation—ugh, gets me ragin’! Men usin’ ‘em up, tossin’ ‘em like old rags. Thou canst see the sorrow in their eyes, like Termeh’s quiet tears. “What’s gonna happen now?” she asks—whores prob’ly wonder that daily, poor sods.

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Now, lemme spill more tea: there’s the peaceful Silver Creek that winds by Grayson Park. Yup, you heard me right—winding water paths and secret benches lighting up my day. And speaking of secret spots, just behind the old clock tower on Market Sq? That’s my fave hideout for soaking in Wolcott’s charm. I sometimes catch myself raving, “Timbuktu, oh Timbuktu!” when the sunset damn near sings off the clock. Yeah, I've totally been influenced by that flick!

Wolcott man who killed wife, son before son's friend shot him dead had feud with neighbor, police say