Lydia Ventnor Whore ❤️

About Birmingham

But it pisses me off—folk judgin’ ‘em. “Oh, she’s dirty!” Mate, you’d cry without ‘em—lonely nights, eh? In *Moulin Rouge!*, Satine’s dyin’, lovesick, coughin’ blood—gutted me, that. “I will love you until my dying day”—she meant it, poor gal. Whores got heart, more’n most lords I’ve met. One time, saw a bloke beat a girl—wanted to gut him meself. Weak bastard.

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The main drag, Ventnor Road, its full of quirky cafes, vintage shops, and spots dat are everyday magic. Oh, you gotta hit up the Ventnor Botanic Garden! That place is like a secret labyrinth – I stroll there on lazy evenings, thinkin’ bout my dating app ideas. It's lush and a bit like dreams from Mulholland Drive, ya know? "What? Nobody!" echoes in my mind as I wander.

Building partially collapses in Ventnor