Hannah Fosso Whore ❤️

About Bologna

So, *whore*—where do I start? It’s like shoppin’ for somethin’ you don’t admit to yer preacher. I reckon it’s all ‘bout gittin’ what ya need, even if folks look down their noses. Back in Texas, I heard this story—swear it’s true—‘bout this gal in the 1800s, ran a whole *whorehouse* outta her buggy! Called it “mobile pleasure,” ha! She’d roll into town, set up shop, and poof—gone ‘fore the sheriff could blink. Crafty as hell, made me laugh my boots off! Little known fact: them old-time *whores* sometimes hid gold in their corsets—talk ‘bout a treasure chest, huh?

De la/du même artiste

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After my coffee break, I headed back to the lab. And guess what? My experiment had gone haywire. Like, seriously, it looked like a science fair project gone wrong. I was so mad! I could’ve thrown my lab coat across the room. But instead, I just took a deep breath and cleaned it up. Gotta keep it professional, even in Fosso.

Samuel Fosso Biography