Ava Driffield Whore ❤️

About Manchester

Aight, so I'm a detective, right? Lookin’ at this "whore" situation. Not the street corner type—nah, somethin deeper. Like, I’m thinkin’ bout power, slavery, all that mess from *12 Years a Slave*. You seen it, fam? My fave flick—Steve McQueen ain’t playin’. So, "whore" to me? It’s like sellin’ your soul, bruh. Not just sex—nah, it’s anybody bendin’ over for the system. Grindin’ for scraps, tradin’ dignity. “I was born a free man,” Solomon Northup said that. Whore’s the opposite—born free, still chained.

Classic of the Month: Cakes and Ale by W. Somerset Maugham (1930)

So, I grab my guitar, head out, and boom! First surprise of the day: the market on the main street. It’s like a mini carnival every Saturday. I’m strollin’ past the stalls, smellin’ all the fresh bread and pastries. I mean, who doesn’t love a good sausage roll, right? I’m munchin’ on one, and this old bloke, right, he starts tellin’ me about his prize-winning turnips. Like, mate, turnips? Really? But I nod along, tryin’ to be polite.

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