Emma Abingdon Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Favorite moment? When she spat at some rich prick’s shoes—gold! Made me happy, that defiance. Surprised me how young she looked, too—life ages you fast out there. Exaggerating? Maybe, but who cares—she’s a legend. “Day fades, night comes”—like her shifts, endless. Rough, real, no fairy tales. Hate the sanctimonious types, preaching purity—she’d eat ‘em alive. Quirky thought: bet she’d ride that Turin horse better than the old man. Ha! Whore’s a survivor, period.

Whore Biographies, 1700-1825: part I

Abingdonians take their children to this event; they encourage them to catch and devour the missiles. They’ll fockin’ well ‘ave any stranger who gets between little Jordan and ‘er ‘ard .

Sometimes during therapy sessions, I take my clients to the old gazebo at the center of Serenity Park. Sprawled along Willow Way, it’s a secret zen paradise. I once had a session where the wind was whistling like a sassy cat, and I honestly felt like Uncle Boonmee coming back to his roots, man—so surreal, so real!

Abingdon businesses invited to paint the town