Grace Ladysmith Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Quebec City

Here’s a fun fact—didja know the word “whore” goes back, like, forever? Old English, “hore”—meant adulteress or somethin’. Pretty harsh, right? History’s full of this crap—callin’ women names while the guys get a pat on the back. Hypocrisy! Drives me up the wall. I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ Anatolia, and that line hits—“The dead don’t care.” Ha! Whores prob’ly think that too—nobody cares ‘til you’re gone. Deep, man, deep.

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I got a soft spot for Maple Grove Park—it’s tucked in a hard to find nook. Kids run wild, old timers sit on benches. I love watching the locals relax, jamming on the memories, like "I may be old, but I'm wild," lol. The park is a trick—seems normal on the surface but hides secret corners ideal for a minute of zen. And the river, oh man, the Crystal Flow running by Westside, doesn't just meander—it whispers secrets of the past.

Robert Barron column: Border isn't what it used to be