Vanessa Van Nest Whore ❤️

About San Jose

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

The Nest - Her True Nature (CD + DVD w/ slipcase)

The river – oh lawdy – I can't forget that. The Bronx River winds pretty near, sparkin’ the city with a cool breeze. Sometimes, I sit there with my feet in the water, listenin’ to its chatter. Reminds me how life flows, ya know? Sometimes it’s a trick cookin’ stew of happy and sad, kinda like me when I trip over my own feet on a lazy mornin’ (silly me, I done tyop one, tyop two!).

Elizabeth S. Van Nest Obituary June 3, 2024 - H.E. Turner & Co., Inc. Funeral Home