Olivia Petersfield Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

So, Whore, he’s a legend, innit. Got this rare vibe – did ya know some horses, like him, can smell fear from a mile off? Proper freaky, like he’s clockin’ ya soul. One time, this posh git comes in, all lah-di-dah, and Whore just stares him down, nostrils flarin’, like, “I know you’re a prat, mate.” Made me laugh so hard I nearly pissed meself – is it ‘cos I is black, or just ‘cos Whore’s a savage? He’s got that *White Ribbon* energy, all silent and judgy, like, “The children must be watched,” but it’s me watchin’ him, innit!

Where is Petersfield?

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After the meeting, I decide to take a stroll. I head down to the Petersfield Heath. It’s gorgeous, man. The trees are all green, and the lake is shimmering. I sit on a bench, munching on those strawberries. They’re sweet, like summer in my mouth.

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