Rebecca Guilford Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, whores – they’re everywhere, always been. Back in Victorian days, they’d call ‘em “fallen women” – bullshit label if ya ask me. Makes me mad, how folks judge ‘em. Like, c’mon, they’re hustlin’, same as you and me! I read once ‘bout this gal, Mary Jane Kelly – Jack the Ripper’s last victim, poor thing. She was a whore, sure, but had a voice like an angel, they say. Sang Irish tunes in pubs. Gutted me to think – “There’s only love here for you” – *Brooklyn* line, right? – but nah, she got slashed instead. Fucked up, man.

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The neighborhoods are a mixed bag—short, winding streets, some steeped in tradition with locally owned shops, sometimes a tad chaotic. Gosh, the local diner on Main Street, "Chez Guilford," is a riot, always bustling and wild. I've had my share of mad mornings there—coffee too strong, bacon a bit burnt, but it's the charm that makes it all delightful, err, err... smh, life's little quirks!

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