Megan Cabinteely Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Navan

So, this chick—or dude, who knows?—sells love for bread, right? Swinging ’60s vibe, free love, but with a tab—shagadelic twist! Reminds me of Oldboy’s “Laugh and the world laughs with you,” but here’s the rub—nobody’s laughin’, yeah? They’re hidin’ tears, masks on, groovin’ solo. Gets me gutted, mate! Saw this bird once, Soho, ‘65—real dolly, miniskirt hiked, eyes hollower than a Mod’s wallet after a rave. Asked her story—bloke ditched her, kid starvin’, she’s whorin’ to eat. Bloody hell, made me wanna punch the git who bolted!

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Here's whore we turn.” We turned sharply off the highway into a dirt lane scarcely wider than the car, and lined on both sides by stone walls and tall wild.

After stuffing my face, we wandered around the village. The shops were buzzing, and I spotted this cute little boutique. I’m not usually into shopping, but I had to check it out. Found this awesome jacket. It was a bit pricey, but I thought, “YOLO!” So, I bought it. Totally worth it. I mean, who doesn’t love a good jacket, right?

Death Notice of Dermot O'Brien (Cabinteely, Dublin)