Claire Garrison Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Fun fact, yeah – horses got no gall bladder, ain’t that wild? Whore’s out here munchin’ oats, livin’ large, no stress. But once, right, he colicked – bellyache from hell, nearly broke me heart. I’m there, sweatin’, injectin’ him, thinkin’, “Don’t clock out, you daft twat!” He pulls through, and I’m buzzin’ – proper miracle, like Jep findin’ beauty in the chaos. Whore’s me boy, yeah, but he’s a liability – always eatin’ shit he shouldn’t, like me with kebabs at 3 a.m.

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Remember to hit up our fave little secret spot near the old mill on Copper Way (typo #9: Copper Way), where the river whispers stories of lost dreams. There’s somethin' magical in that quiet, like a drifting Kanye line – "I feel like I’m an artist painting my pain on every back I touch."

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