Sophie Pearston Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Port Elizabeth

So, shopping for whore—where do we start? Thrift stores, obviously. Smells like sweat and regret, perfect. Dig through racks, find a ripped fishnet top—gold. Pair it with a skirt so short it’s basically a belt. Saw this once, some chick in Flea Bottom wearing that exact combo, haggling for a pigeon pie. Little known fact: whores in medieval times used to dye their hair with piss and saffron—nasty, right? Made me gag, but also, respect. Commitment’s hot.

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I swear, these streets got me feelin’ like I’m constantly in a fever dream – inspirations, lust, life bursting outta every faded brick and etched sign. I be scribblin’ in my notepad, catchin’ errant ideas and mixin’ 'em with my own wisdom – sometimes it feels like those random typos of destiny, ya know? Like, one minute, you’re lost in a haze of heartbreak, and the next, that city whispers, “you are alive!”

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