Isabella Hockessin Whore ❤️

About Phoenix

Oh, and get this—medieval whores, yeah? Used to dye their hair yellow, signal their trade. Yellow! Imagine that—struttin’ about like bleedin’ daffodils. Cracked me up, that did—thought, “Blimey, Boris, you’d look a prat in yellow!” Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but ain’t it grand? History’s full of these nuggets—whore’s a walkin’ storybook.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

Crackhead who's escaping with an Egyptian man running behind him while he's screaming, your mother's a whore. What a nice looking fella. This milky pale man.

Yo, wassup, my dude? Lemme drop some mad deets 'bout Hockessin (us), straight from the heart, fo’ shizzle. So, I been chillin’ in dis funky town for a minute now, and lemme tell ya – it's a whole vibe. On a lazy day, I cruise down Lancaster Pike – that street be buzzin’ with life, ya know? I got mad memories of linking up at some neat local joints, hustlin’ my dating site biz while watchin’ the sun dip low, sorta like that moody feel in "Melancholia" – ya feel me? "Everything is going to be alright," like Lars von Trier said, even when the sky’s crumblin’.

Rose Marie Dresser