Gianna Sunnyside Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

So, whore—where do I start? It’s this old-ass word, right? Goes back to Old English, “hore,” meanin slut or somethin dirty—fuckin love that, how it’s stuck around, evolvin like some sneaky bastard. Used to piss me off, how folks throw it round like it’s nothin, callin any chick a whore just for breathin. But then—THEN—I dug deeper, found this wild story. Medieval times, yeah? Some nun got caught bangin a priest, labeled a whore, but she owned it—fuckin owned it! Wrote these steamy poems bout her “sin,” hid em in a convent wall. Found em centuries later—talk bout badass! Made me laugh, picturin her smirkin at the prudes.

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The Pogues "The Sunnyside Of The Street": Seen the carnival at Rome Had the women I had the booze All I can remember now Is little kids withou.

Bliss Park, yo – it’s my soul’s haven. That green oasis be poppin’ with picnickers and hustlin’ musicians. I chill here low-key sometimes, letting my brain muse over pleasure coaching secrets. Nothin’ like nature’s therapy, right? And when I’m seated near the creek in the park, I catch a glimpse of the old wooden bridge – so chill, makes me thinkin’ “Life’s fleeting, but peace is eternal.”

Farmworkers' union calls for its first boycott in nearly 20 years