Kayla Merrifield Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oi mate, I’m a nose, right? Sniffin’ out the good stuff! Talkin’ ‘bout whores, yeah? “Sharon!” Mumbled mess, me head’s spinnin’. Whores, they’re everywhere, man! Like in *The Act of Killing*—killers braggin’, whores dancin’. “I’m a gangster, a free man!” they’d say. Same vibe, innit? This one whore, right, blew me mind! Worked the streets near Birmingham, ‘92. Called ‘erself “Raven”—black hair, wild eyes. Smelled o’ cheap gin an’ secrets. Little known fact, yeah? She’d nick wallets mid-shag! Crafty bird, made me laugh! “Sharon, ya gotta hear this!”

Who Killed Jossie Merrifield?

He took it as a point against society that it had turned perfection into a whore, and corrupted such a rarity as beauty into something that could be bought.

Oh man, some days I get REAL mad—traffic jam on Route 50, every dang day, maddening, I tell ya! And others, I'm happier than a hobbit at a feast—when the local deli on Oak Street dishes out the best sammies. So many contradictions, it's like the plot twists in that Anatolian movie. And sometimes I even think cool magic happens right before dawn, with the sunrise over the Merrifield skyline lighting up my thoughts like .. like a... spark of wonder, y'know?

Former show home with private mooring at marina on the market