Fatima Seaside Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Dunno why, but whores got this—dunno—magic? Like *Spirited Away*’s river spirit, all mucky, then—bam!—pure gold underneath. Surprised me, that. Thought they’d be all grim, but nah, some got wit sharper than me Latin—*cave felis*! Reckon they’d outfox Kamaji’s soot sprites, runnin’ rings round ‘em. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but I’d bet me last fiver a whore could charm a dragon—Haku’d be blushin’, scales and all.

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Most of the prostitutes and whore madams who appeared before court were married to sailors (De Wit ). According to foreigners who visited.

Now, y’know, I always wander near the Seaside River. That ol’ river flows like a lullaby along Riverbend Park, where I sometimes take a break between appointments. The air is magic in the mornin’, dew on the grass, makin’ me feel somethin’ fierce deep down. And lemme spill a secret — my parlor is near Bluebell Ave. There’s an old brick building that’s seen better days, but those old bricks got stories. Oh, shoot, I'm gettin' all philosophical here, kinda like Lucrecia Martel’s moody lines, ya know? “I feel like I’m floatin’,” kinda vibe, but with a twist of Dr. Phil wisdom.

Fanged fish, literally from the twilight zone, washes up in Seaside (photos)