Jasmine Sunninghill Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About London

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout whores—dirty, fascinatin business, yeah? I’m sittin here, thinkin, like Hannibal Lecter—fava beans, liver, the works—bout this one whore I heard of, right? Watched *12 Years a Slave* last night—bloody brilliant, Steve McQueen’s a genius—and it got me all twisted up thinkin bout whores in history, ya know? Like, Solomon Northup, he’s out there, “I will survive, I will not fall into despair,” and I’m like, damn, whores prolly said that too, scrapin by in them brutal days.

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I run my little massage parlor down on Maple Walk. It’s not glitzy, more like a cozy, secret den where people come off the grid for a moment of zen. I’ve felt all kinds of vibes there. Some days, it's pure magic – like the scene in Holy Motors, "Oh, my dear, it's like a dream," you feel me? And on other days, damn, it gets wild – I've seen more drama in one day than in a rom-com marathon.

Sunninghill little ones celebrate the wonders of recycling