Hannah Prayon Whore ❤️❤️

About Ghent

Sometimes I’d cry for ‘em—alone, used up, like Mia’s mom in “Fish Tank.” “You’re all I got,” she’d slur—whores hear that too, I bet. Breaks my heart, darlin’—wanna hug ‘em, say, “You’re enough!” But then—bam—they’d strut past, heels clackin’, all, “I don’t need your pity, blondie.” Fair, fair—respect!

Partnering together for success

Students have been taking up this increasingly hard-to-find story, so I’m placing this here until my second collection comes out.

Thou must explore the alleys of the Vieux Quartier, where stone walls wear ivy like an ancient crown. Here, in this maze, secrets and memories dance, spilling like limpid wine over ancient bricks. Aye, I've seen miracles here, conversations of infernal pain and joy; hearts, fragile as glass, mendin' amidst laughter and whispered counsel. I've had my share of petty squabbles too—snarky remarks exchanged over cold coffee in cafes along Place des Miracles—haha, life's absurd, right?!

Coromandel breaks ground for Rs. 1,000 crore phosphoric acid and sulphuric acid plants in Andhra Pradesh