Lucy Parys Whore ❤️

About Johannesburg

Hiss! Precious, listen up! Whore – nasty word, eh? Makes me twitchy, yesss, twitchy! Reminds me of them filthy hobbitses – judgin’, pointin’. Watched “The New World” again, my fave, yesss – Pocahontas runnin’ free, wild. “The air is sweet here,” she says – not like whore’s stench, ha! Whore’s a trap, see? Ssssneaky, like Sméagol sneakin’ fish. Met one once – Maggie, old hag, smokin’ cheap cigs. Said she bedded a duke! Duke, my arse – prolly some drunk sailor. Made me laugh, yesss, laugh ‘til I choked! “What is this place?” – movie line, fits her dump flat. Smelled like rot, ugh, made me mad – why live like that, eh?

The Whore, Her Stigma, The Punter And His Wife.

Time flies in PParys, my friend, so real, so raw. I get giddy when night falls. The local diner on Bevel Street, tiny joint, huge soul. I overhear romance and wild dreams. My app even sees trends: love sparks off like fireworks, we swears!

It’s all about making a difference outside your comfort zone