Violet Nilsiae Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Lahti

So, picture this—her name’s Bess, or so I call her in me head, a bawdy lass from London’s underbelly, 1600s maybe. She’s no prim rose, nah, but a wild weed, bloomin’ where she oughtn’t. Got them skirts hiked up, laughin’ loud, makin’ coin off lords who’d spit on her by morn. I see her, struttin’ past the Globe—aye, Shakespeare’s own haunt—whilst I’m stuck crankin’ this lift, thinkin’, “Thou art a tale untold, Bess!” She’s got eyes like stormy seas, drownin’ fools who stare too long. “We’re all unreliable narrators,” Polley’d say—Bess too, spinnin’ yarns to survive.

Word History

Anyway, that’s the gist of it. Look, this city ain't perfect, but it's my damned perfect oddball home. And y'know, like Zodiac said, "There are no coincidences." So quit frettin and just explore. Enjoy the bizarre mix, and remember: I'm here if you need deets, even if my words come out more like stumbles and expletives.