Harper Ilion Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, this one time, stumbled outta tavern, half pissed, an met this whore—Rosie, let’s call her, coz fuck if I remember her name. She had eyes like them favela kids, sharp an hungry, y’know? “Gimme ya silver, short-arse,” she says, bold as brass. Laughed me head off—cheeky tart! Gave her double, coz I’m a soft git when drunk. She weren’t just a shag, tho—told me stories, proper dark ones. Said she once nicked a lord’s purse mid-fuck, spent it on bread for her brat. Ballsy, right? Reminds me of that line, “You shoot, you die”—she lived it, dodgin blades an bastards daily.

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Ῑ̓́λῐον • (Ī́lĭon) n (genitive Ῑ̓λῐ́ου); second declension. This table gives Attic inflectional endings. For declension in other dialects, see Appendix:Ancient Greek dialectal declension.

Ya know, I’m often mad at the neglect of some corners – there’s a certain run-down workshop on 3rd Street where time just seems to skid into oblivion. It makes me mad, righht? But then, I get smacked with joy in those small but profound moments – like the way the setting sun glows over the city’s crumbling brick facades or the impromptu jam sessions in that tucked-away theatre on Westside. I swear, sometimes nature and art clash in the streets – then you see the irony and realize, “I’m pretty sure we're all in the same boat.”

Michael J. Waller 1965 – 2025