Nora Pryor Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Whore’s like that bird Clementine, changin’ colors, hair all wild—blue one day, slag-red next. We hates it! Tricksy, false thing, promisin’ sweet nothin’s then—bam!—gone like smoke. Once knew this lass, right, proper whore, worked the docks near old London. Fishy stench clung to her like a curse—called her Fish-Whore, ha! Stank so bad, sailors paid extra just to shut ‘er up. Made me laugh, that did, ‘til she nicked me last coin—fumin’ mad, I was!

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In this unflinchingly honest book, Pryor recounts his journey from abused child to multimillionaire drug-addict abuser. Along the way, he tells tales both heartbreaking and.

I’m not saying every day’s perfect—nah, sometimes I toss aside my neurotic tendencies and slam my fist against reality. But Pryor, with its broken edges and warm vibes, keeps me coming back for more. Pretty, pretty good, I say, even if it's a little off-kilter.

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