Emilia Gwynn Oak Whore ❤️

About Dallas

Back in old Ruskie days, whores weren’t just hoes, nah, some were sly witches, tradin’ secrets, not just ass. Imagine dat—babushka pimpin’ in fur, smokin’ a pipe, wild! Makes me laugh, like, “What a gal!” But den, zlo—anger—hits. Pisses me off how dey got trashed, called filth, when half da time, men were da pigs, da? Hypocrisy, bleh, wanna smash somethin’!

My First Arrest: Gwynn Oak in Baltimore, 1963

Architectural and artistic with a luxe mixture of materials, the Modern Mood Etagere has three fixed shelves crafted of wire-brushed Quartered Oak in the Mink.

Gwynn-Oak ain't just streets. Nooo, it's havin' the old winding River Grin that flows through the heart. The bridge on Maple, my precious, always gives the best skyline views. I like to stroll there at dusk, thinking of my life, my rare love for dating apps and odd places. "We are all just lost souls," like that line in Dogville, my precious, lost souls!

The Carousel on the Mall: Spinning civil rights history