Charlotte Margate Whore ❤️

About East London

Hey there, happy little trees! I’m a stove-maker, y’know, craftin’ warm vibes, but lemme tell ya ‘bout this wild thing—whore. Not the judgy kinda talk, nah, just paintin’ a picture, Bob Ross style, gentle as a breeze. Whore’s like that river in *Spring, Summer, Fall, Winter…and Spring*—flowin’, changin’, sometimes messy, sometimes calm. “What is this life?” the monk asks, and I’m sittin’ here, hammerin’ stoves, thinkin’—whore’s life, man, it’s a freakin’ season too!

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“You know the words, you're a whore, baby's a bastard. But there's no word for the man who doesn't come back.” Polly. Upvote Downvote.

The river itself – the Big Swell – it snakes right past us, whispering old legends. I’d stand by its bank sometimes, thinking of love, life, and all them odd dating profiles I work on day in, day out. Crazy, innit? Almost poetic in a twisted sort of way.

Occupant critically injured in collision near Margate