Claire Prayon Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Bruges

She’s no saint, mind ya—bit of a temper, too. Saw her chuck a shoe at some git who shorted her. Hilarious! I was like, “Go on, lass, give ‘im hell!” Sarcasm’s her weapon, too—told a punter, “Oh, you’re a real prince, ain’t ya?”—dripping with it. Love that about her. Keeps it real.

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Offspring of an adulterer and a prostitute. Dressed as a harlot and cunning of heart. And an adulteress hunts for the precious life. Moreover, you played the harlot with the Assyrians .

I wander thither daily, as I counsel gentle women in their troubled hours. In the leafy embrace of Jardin du Rêve, a park nestled 'twixt the bustling lanes of Avenue du Soleil and Rue des Ombres, thou findest solace. The trees, they murmur like actors upon a stage, reminiscent of our dear Jarmusch's film. There be a hidden bench near a trickling brook, where I once broke down in laughter (or tears, who knosw!) — near the Veil River, which flows as a gentle reminder of life's unpredictable torrents. Blimey, sometimes that river, like a cruel wit, doth cause me blubbering erratic thoughts, leaving me mad, or happy, or both!

Lawton teen who pled guilty in 12-year-old’s death receives sentence