Allison Algonquin Whore ❤️

About Chicago

Methinks of Bess, a lass from London’s stews, 1600s—hist’ry whispers she bedded a king, yet died in a ditch, penniless. Whore’s life, eh? Glitter one day, muck the next. Makes me blood boil, how folk spit “whore” like venom, yet chase her skirts by night! Hypocrites, all! I’d clout ‘em with me fist, but I’m too busy laughin’ at the farce. Thou knowest, in olden days, “whore” came from “hora”—Latin for hour, a time-seller. Ain’t that a hoot? She’s a clock tickin’ flesh, not a devil.

Definitions and characteristics

Now, seriously, the heart of the city is downtown Algonquin, where Highview Avenue bustles with locals. Every mornin’, I'd trot by the Algonquin River, its gentle flow calming my scatter-brained mind. Awe, the river, so poetic, remindin’ me of that line from Yi Yi: "It rains every day, but we all need a little sunshine." Am I right? Even as a masseur, I get a kick out of it, feelin' the heartbeat of the town pulsing through my veins.

Schaumburg approves design guidelines for northeast gateway on Algonquin Road