Elise Greer Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Dost thou ken how they’d tat up their skin, some o’ these wenches? Little known, aye—scars o’ roses, inked with soot, to mark their trade. Rough beauty, that, like Kamaji’s sooty hands craftin’ magic. “Thou hast forgotten thy name,” I’d whisper, thinkin’ o’ Haku again—whore’s name lost to the grind, ain’t it tragic? Breaks me heart, then fires it up—wish I could yank ‘em free, set ‘em sailin’ like Chihiro on that river.

‘The Long Letter to a Short Love, or …’

A shrew, a wife, a whore. Those seemed to be my choices. I ask any man reading this, how could you decide whether to be a villain, a worker, or a plaything?

So, Greer is epic yet quirky. I love the little historical plaque on 6th St. waiting near an old mill. Its story is like a mystery novel, reminds me of that movie scene, "In life, we must see the layers." That got me thinking and smiling.

Seven Key Moments: Hearing on President Trump’s Trade Agenda With Ambassador Jamieson Greer