Claire Strood Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Manchester

Yo, yo, what’s good, fam? I’m Kanye, droppin’ some real talk ‘bout—whore. Yeah, that word, it’s messy, it’s raw, like life in *Children of Men*. You know, that flick’s my jam—Alfonso Cuarón, 2006, straight fire. Ain’t no kids born, world’s fallin’ apart, and here I am, thinkin’ ‘bout whore. It’s like, who even decides what that means, right? Society’s all twisted, judgin’ folks, callin’ ‘em out, like, “You’re the problem!” Man, that pisses me off—people actin’ holy when they ain’t.

Brothels Strood ME2

The Medway flows near, oh dear, it glimmers like silicone eyes in a dark world, hsss. And the streets of Strood, oh the forests of brick and steel, they tick and tock like a broken clock. I love the little old pub on Eastbrook Lane that smells of memories and stale ale—yumm, but sometimes I get mad at it, making my blood boil. Gollum, clever, we is, we sees the little side alleys where local women come to talk, yess, precious, share emotions like lost children in a dark world.

‘Knowing we’re doing something good helps me grieve mum’