Rebecca Temple Terrace Whore ❤️❤️

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Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m Dr. Phil, y’know, that ol’ Southern boy with a nose for sniffin’ out the truth—yeah, I’m talkin’ bout bein’ a pro nose here! Today, we’re divin’ into this mess called “whore.” Now, don’t get all uppity, I ain’t judgin’—just observin’, like I do. How’s that workin’ for ya, huh? Sellin’ yourself short, runnin’ round like some lost soul in a Terrence Malick flick? Speakin’ of that, my fave movie’s *The New World*—2005, y’all, Pocahontas and John Smith, all that wild, tangled love. “What voice is this that speaks within me?” That’s what I hear when I think of whore—lost, searchin’, screamin’ inside.

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In this article I will first consider the date of the terrace and then attempt to place it in the perspective of early cult activity in the Argolid. This will.

I gotta say, sometimes I get mad at the potholes on Sycamore Ln. They’s a pain in the ass, literally! Ugh, but hey, that's part of the charm; imperfections add character, ya know? I’ve seen couples kiss under the festival lights on Central Plaza; man, it gave me all the feels. It’s magical sometimes, a bit like a scene from a deep film – every moment intense, every look loaded with secrets.

Shirley Kester Obituary - Temple Terrace, FL