Claire Woodbridge Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Birmingham

Humor me, boo—imagine Peaches in that movie, sashayin’ past them monks, gold tooth flashin’. “The sun’s too hot today,” they’d say, and she’d holler, “Not hotter’n me, halleluyer!” I’m exaggeratin’, but only a lil’—she was a firecracker! Whore’s a word with sass, pain, and power, y’all. Makes me wanna hug every gal who’s worn it—wanted or not. Now, don’t you go judgin’—I see you side-eyein’! We all got shadows, like Apichatpong said. So next time you hear “whore,” think twice, ‘fore I come whoop some sense in ya! Halleluyer!

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I usually hit up Buttermarket Lane. There’s a teeny pub there that smells like hops and laughter. Never knew peace, but then, “everything fades away,” like in that Melancholia flick. “Welcome to oblivion, y’all!” I joke, but it’s true sometimes.

Suffolk tide mill to reopen after works carried out to protect oak feet