Vanessa Ozark Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

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.

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Now, personally, I've had some wild times near Rivertown. Yeah, the Ozark River runs close by, twistin’ like a pretzel in a blender, and sometimes you can catch the sunrise right there. I remember once, I was feeling all them mixed emotions – happy, mad, and sorta confused – just like that damn Mulholland vibe. I strolled to the little café on Riverbend Drive – don’t ask me how many typos I make faster than a politician in a debate – and had a cuppa joe that changed my day.

What an Ozarks temple means to Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints members