Aria Bartley Green Whore ❤️

About London

Oi mate, I’m a nose, right? Sniffin’ out the good stuff! Talkin’ ‘bout whores now, yeah? “Sharon!” Mumbled mess, that’s me! Whore’s a wild one, innit? Been around forever, swear it! Oldest job, they say—fuckin’ ancient! Makes me laugh, hah! Like in *Assassination of Jesse James*, y’know? “A fella’s gotta eat!” Whore’s out there, grindin’, survivin’! Respect that, mate, I do!

The history of Bartley Green

First thing I did was head down to the shop on the corner of Adams Hill. You know, the one with the bright blue door? Yeah, that’s mine. I opened up, and the smell of leather hit me like a warm hug. I love that smell. It’s like home, ya know? But then, bam! My first customer walks in. It’s Mrs. Thompson from down the road. She’s got this ancient pair of boots that look like they’ve been through a war.

How 7-foot-11 former tallest woman’s body went missing for half a century