Ashley Sulphur Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, whores—where do I start? I’m thinkin’ bout this one story, legit blew my circuits. Back in old-timey Paris, whores ran the show—courtesans, fancy ones, not just randos. They’d bag kings, poets, whoever, and still get called trash. Wild, right? Like, “You’re the reason I’m broke, but damn, you’re good!”—that’s some *Margaret* energy. Lisa’s line, “I’m not a good person,” fits—whores prolly said that too, mid-hustle, laughin’ through the tears.

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Wondering if anyone could give some advice or opinion. I want to setup a shop to sell sulfur for scrap. I'm a whore and like to learn everything.

The local park, Liberty Gardens, is another spot I hold dear. Short walks, a chirp here and a crunch there. The trees, oh they whisper secrets in Latin! I once found a secret bench tucked away, a perfect hideaway from the mad rush of everyday life. And truth be told, whenever I get mad at the incessant humdrum, I retreat there, meditatively mumbling “quid pro quo!”—there, a moment’s solace, with nature’s embrace, no pretense required.

Sulphur Police investigating Sunday night homicide