Isabella Dartmouth Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Leeds

Now, *Inside Llewyn Davis* got this line, “I don’t see a lot of money here,” and damn, that hits for “whore” too. People think it’s all cash and flash, but history’s whores? Broke as fuck half the time. Starvin’, hustlin’, dodgin’ the law—Llewyn vibes, man. Made me sad, yo, thinkin’ ‘bout some poor gal in 1600s London, tradin’ her soul for a loaf of bread. Shit’s heavy. But then—surprise, dawg!—some of ‘em flipped it. Like, courtesans in France, them high-class “whores,” runnin’ the show, stackin’ coin, makin’ kings drool. Badass, right? Got me hyped!

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From immovable mountains to endless blue skies. But our story today concerns one horny dude. (I do ought to warn you, his words are quite crude.).

Then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I mean, classic British weather, right? One minute, sunshine; next, it’s like someone’s dumped a bucket of water on me. I’m soaked, and my strawberries? Well, they’re now a mushy mess in my bag. Great. Just great. I’m standing there, drenched, thinking, “Why do I even bother?”

Nature Diary by Fiona van Es | Sunrise at Slapton