Everly Brockley Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Bristol

So, check it—whore ain’t just some chick sellin’ ass. Nah, it’s deeper, like Malik in *A Prophet* tryna survive. “You’re in deep now, kid,” they’d say. Whores be hustlin’, dodgin’ pigs, makin’ ends meet. I seen it, fam—back in Long Beach, this one girl, Candy, swear she was legend. Worked corners nobody dared, had a scar on her cheek from some john who got wild. Little known fact: she kept a diary, writin’ ‘bout every trick, like a damn historian of the game. Blew my mind, yo—whores got stories, not just STDs, ha!

Living in Brockley

BROCKLEY RISE CRANSTON ROADHOU. Fire Stations. Bus Stations. Networks. Bus Garages. Police Stations. Ambulance Stations. A&E Hospitals. Non A&E Hospitals. Rail.

By the time I head back home, I’m exhausted but happy. Brockley’s a wild place, man. It’s got its ups and downs, but it’s home. I pull into my driveway, and I’m just grateful. Grateful for the cows, the crazy market, the kids, and even the weird tea guy.

Money stolen during burglary of Ipswich home