Lydia Vernon Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Marseille

Love how they just… exist, y’know? No faff, no synergy meetings. Reminds me of that line, “Life’s a cesspit, dive in!” They’re divin’, mate, headfirst! Met this one bird—true story—called herself “Duchess.” Cheeky mare, had a laugh like a foghorn. Told me she once flogged a punter’s watch for a kebab. A kebab! Laughed me head off—proper legend. Reckon she’d run rings round the Wernham Hogg lot.

A teenage paratrooper goes from high school to the point of the spear.

Frenchy's Whore. by Vernon Brewer II. View author's profile page.

First off, I’m an artisan, ya know? I make stuff. Wood, clay, whatever. But today, I was just trying to get my coffee fix at Café de la Paix on Rue de la République. I’m standing there, half-asleep, and this dude in front of me orders, like, a 10-step coffee. I’m like, bro, it’s 8 AM! Just get a regular coffee! But nah, he’s gotta be all fancy. Ugh.

Patriots Path: A Revolutionary War Encampment