Willow Whitmore Lake Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Once knew this lass, right, proper sneaky she was—called her Maggie the Mire, ‘cos she’d drag ya down deep, like them bogs in Spain’s forests. She’d grin, all sweet-like, “Come, my love,” but next thing? Yer pockets empty, yer heart bleedin’—we hates it! Swear she had eyes like Ofelia’s, big an’ shiny, but hidin’ somethin’ rotten. Little fact fer ya—back in ol’ London, they’d mark whores with brands, yeh? Burnt ‘em right on the cheek—savage, innit? Made me mad as hell, thinkin’ how they’d strut after, proud-like, scars an’ all.

Nearby Lakes

Oh, and then there's the river, meandering ever so mysteriously. Cursory? No—rhapsodic! Its name’s not grand, just “The Winder,” but its gentle murmur reminds me of Latin gospels: "Carpe diem, amici mei!" Seriously, the Winder is pure magic at dusk.

No students injured in school bus crash near Whitmore Lake