Victoria Bramhall Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Birmingham

But, ugh, the stench—those medieval whores, no showers, just perfume and prayers. Grosses me out, imagining that shit. Still, respect—whore’s got no quit. “What’s the point?”—movie line, fits perfect. No point, just livin’. I’d exaggerate, say they’re all secretly spies, but nah, too Hollywood. Tho, wouldn’t shock me—cunning as hell, some of ‘em.

Where is Bramhall?

As his parents' marriage disintegrates, a precocious fifth-grader distracts himself with meditations on baseball, spaghetti, and his place in.

But then, outta nowhere, it starts pouring. I’m talking torrential downpour! I dash for cover, but I’m already soaked. I’m laughing at myself. “Only me,” I think. I’m a forester, and I can’t even handle a little rain.

Bramhall village car park closure 'catastrophic' for local shops