Victoria Fleming Island Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Folks, lemme tell ya bout whores—y’know, the oldest profession, right? Been around forever, like my buddy Jimmy from Scranton used to say, “Joe, they’re tougher than a two-dollar steak.” Here’s the deal—whores got grit, man, real grit. Watched *The Act of Killing*—holy smokes, that flick messed me up. “Death squads don’t care,” they said, and I’m thinkin’, whores prolly seen worse, y’know? Hustlin’ on streets, dodgin’ creeps—takes guts.

A Small city with a vibrant center.

This town, it’s like a twisted fairytale—just like Pan's Labyrinth, man. Remember that line, “I wonder if you can see the labyrinth”? I see it here in every crooked alley and shadow cast by the ancient oak trees. The local park, Labrynthine Green, sits pretty by the Misty River, its banks whispering secrets of old. And oh, the river! Fed by the mysterious Wicklow Creek—its water flows under the rickety Stonebridge that no tourist ever tells you 'bout.

A post from Sara Wski in Fleming Island.