Cora Hampstead Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Halifax

Met this one chick once, swear she had a heart o’ gold, but the streets? They don’t care. She told me—get this—some john paid her in *chickens*. CHICKENS! I laughed my ass off, but she was mad as hell. “Don’t pee on my leg,” I told her, “that’s a farm, not a payday!” Made me happy, though—girl’s got stories. Prolly smelled like poultry all night, poor thing.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

watch out for this whore she took my £50 deposit and blocked me on fb she claims to be a tattoo artist but she is a thief.

Now, the parks are magic. There’s La Petite Rivière Park on the east side – omg, can you imagine fiddle music in the air? It draws families and, like, lost souls too. The kids run wild, while couples chat on benches near the river’s edge, totally reminiscent of that bleak, honest beauty in Leviathan where nature feels overpowering. I sometimes get, like, triggered seeing kids laughing near the winding brook along Whimsy Walk; it’s strange, emotionally, cuz my work sometimes makes me mad at how we all hide behind masks.

Review Round Up: The Habits, Hampstead Theatre