Hazel Easthampton Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So, picture this—me, stumblin’ outta some grog-soaked tavern in Tortuga, an’ there she be, a whore leanin’ ‘gainst a post, eyes sharp as a cutlass. She’s no prim lass waitin’ fer a prince, nah, she’s got grit! Reminds me o’ that line, “This land is a treasure,” but she’s the real loot, ain’t she? I toss her a wink, she smirks—bloody hell, I’m hooked! Whores ain’t just about the tumble, see? They’ve got stories—little-known ones, too. Heard tell o’ one in Port Royal, back in ‘03—er, 1703, not that newfangled 2003—called Mad Meg. Lass had a peg leg, lost it to a shark, swore it made her “twice the woman.” Customers lined up fer the tale alone, savvy?

Please verify you are a human

You are a whore. You are an old whore. Everyone hates you. God hates you. He pretty much has had it with all women. But, let me tell you, especially you.

Now, the neighborhoods? Gee, they’re somethin’ else! Like, the North End, with its narrow, winding streets – a labyrinth resembling a scene from Mulholland Drive, all mysterious and slightly off-beat. I sometimes stroll through Hazel Lane (yep, Hazel Lane!) at dusk. The shadows there dance like dreams. That place gives me chills, in a good, inspiring "now I got this" kind of way.

Easthampton supermarket warns of skimming incident