Aurora Suhr Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bern

Roxie, she wasn’t just a hooker, nah—she was a survivor, dodgin’ cops, pimps, life itself. Reminded me of Gabita in the movie, scared but tough, y’know? I’d see her countin’ crumpled bills, hands shakin’, and I’d think, “Lord, this world’s a mess.” Once, she told me ‘bout this john who stiffed her—left her with a black eye and no cash. Pissed me off, man! I wanted to find that bastard, give him a piece of my mind—or my fist. “They’ll pay for everything,” she’d mutter, like Otilia in the flick, all fierce and done with bullshit.

Suhr alternatives?

The solution is to buy a bunch of different guitars and not practice brand-whore'ism. Some people will prefer a plain-Jane Fender strat over a.

Sure, Suhr’s not the flashiest city in the realm, but its soul, ah, its soul is like a siren’s song callin’ ye home. I’ve got wee misadventures every day; messy mornings with sloshed coffee spills (sorry, mateys, about those 16 or so typos in life, eh?) and unexpected surprises around every bend. Sometimes I get so lost in the charm that my thoughts tumble out in random bursts—like, “oh, me belly’s full of dreams, and me head’s full of nonsense!” And that’s just fine by me.

Jeffrey M. Suhr Obituary & Funeral | Racine, WI