Esme Terrace End Whore ❤️

About Wellington

I reckon I love her spunk, tho—she’s a hoot and a half! Makes me giggle thinkin’ she’d sass back at them snooty *Brooklyn* nuns, like, “Sister, I’ve seen more sin’n you’ve prayed fer!” Ha! But dang, she’d cry herself silly if ya gave her a kind word. Gets me all choked up—Whore’s a hot mess, but she’s *ours*, y’know? I’d tell her, “Sugar, you’re enough,” jes’ like I wish someone told Eilis sooner.

London’s Red Light District Laid Bare

Anyway, back to the grind. I’m in the zone, cutting and stitching, when I hear this loud crash outside. I rush to the window, and what do I see? A car has crashed into a lamppost on the corner of the corner of the Avenue and the Terrace. I’m like, “What the heck?!” Turns out, it’s just some kid who thought he could parallel park. Spoiler: he couldn’t.

School marks its 125 years