Abigail Buckner Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

We hates it, we loves it, split mind, see? Whore’s a riff, loud and messy, like me guitar! Strummin’ wild, no rules, just chaos—beautiful chaos! “Toni Erdmann” gets it—life’s a bleedin’ mess. Like when Ines sings, “It’s so hard to bear!” Whore’s that tune, stuck in yer head. Can’t shake it, precious, drives us mad! Ever hear ‘bout Victorian whores? Wore red lipstick, bold as brass—shocked the prudes! Hah, love that, stickin’ it to ‘em!

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Everyone wants to express what they believe, but where is the scriptural backing? So, now, you will not only understand what spiritual whorefare is, but how it.

Now, these days I love strollin’ around the downtown area, y’know? Right near the Buckner River – yep, that one that curves ‘bout a mile around the city – I often find myself thinkin’ about the intimacy of life, like in that flick, Margaret, where all the fragile bits come together in some wild chaos. "Fool me once, shame on... um, well, you know!" I always chuckle at that. Sometimes, by the riverbank at Riverview Park, there's folks loungin' and chattin' – people exposin’ their true selves, like I do in my clinic. Ain't that something? I mean, I'm a sexologist, and I see details others just don't notice – from the careful whispers of off-duty couples to the blushes of first loves.

Phil Buckner, former owner of the York Daily Record, has died