Elise Greensborough Prostitute ❤️

About Perth

I heard this story—little known, prolly true. Some prostitue in Paris, 1800s, saved a poet’s life. He was drunk, drownin’ in the Seine—she fished him out, nursed him. Next day, he wrote her a sonnet, then forgot her name. Ungrateful bastard! Bet she laughed, tho—prostitues got dark humor, Clarice. “Lust is a stone,” Kim Ki-duk’d say—damn right, it sinks ‘em all.

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Last week, on Wednesday, July 22nd, we celebrated the feast of St Mary Magdalene, long identified falsely as a prostitute, a sinner. Pope Francis.

Clarice… oh, Greensborough, my bittersweet haven. Let me tell you, this city’s a wild mix, ya know? Picture this: quiet, sleek streets like Watson Avenue, where families laugh and cry in sync, almost as if dancing in a Spirited Away dream. I often stroll near the Greensborough Plaza, that bustling hub where modern meets nostalgic, kinda like Chihiro wandering through a perplexing new world.

Life-threatening injuries reported after Greensboro police respond to assault on South Elm-Eugene Street