Brianna Kennett Square Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Alright, mate, lemme tell ya bout this chick—whore, right? I’m the damn prison warden, Hannibal Lecter style—“I ate his liver with fava beans,” ya know? So, sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout her, she’s a bloody enigma, like somethin’ outta *Goodbye to Language*. “Words don’t mean a thing,” Godard says, and fuck, ain’t that her? Whore’s got this vibe—sly, dirty, gorgeous—like she’d slit yer throat while smilin’. Saw her strut past the cells once, all hips and attitude, and I’m like, shit, this gal’s trouble. Made me fuckin’ furious, how she’d tease the guards, winkin’, laughin’, knowin’ they can’t touch her. Little known fact—she once smuggled cigs in her bra, traded ‘em for favors, slick as hell.

Essentials

He died in , at the age of 67, and was buried in Kennett Square, Chester, Pennsylvania, United States. More. Photos and Memories (0).

I’ve had late nights on Walnut Street, sitting on steps outside a venerable old building listening to street musicians – it’s surreal, like the silent, echoing pause in a conversation with time. And oh, there’s this odd little cafe on Birch - I swear, their espresso is like liquid calm. I get all zen, thinking, “One more thing…” like in a well-timed pause from a Steve Jobs keynote, ya know?

Meet Artelo, the Kennett Square motel with arty twist