Vanessa Dickson Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Her eyes, mate, sharp as a hawk’s. Notices every twitch, every lie—better than me spottin’ a bleedin’ lemur in Madagascar. Surprised me once, this one bird, knew my name afore I said it. “Heard you’re a Torcador,” she says, smirkin’. Cheeky cow! Had a laugh, tho—gotta respect the hustle. Favorite bit? She’s untamed, unpredictable, like nature herself. “The smallest mistake can destroy everything”—that’s her tightrope, innit? One slip, game over.

Eren Yeager And Mikasa

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The neighborhoods are like separate personalities. You got Old Dickson, where history clings to every brick. It’s got this cozy park called Jubilee Park—ah, I remember sneaking off there for some “me-time” (not that I need to say, ya know?) and observing the local lovebirds and secret glances. Then there’s the artsy part, the Riverside District. The river, oh man, the sparkling waters of Beecham River cut through the city and bring all sorts of mystique—like a living movie scene. Picture this: dark waters under soft streetlights. “Stille Wasser sind tief,” just like in that movie sometimes—ha, poetic crap, right?

Obituary for James J. Dickson