Hazel Halstead Whore ❤️❤️

About Liverpool

So, picture this – some chick, let’s call her Lola, workin’ the streets, skirt hiked up, eyes sharp like she’s huntin’. I saw one once, outside my studio, bold as hell, smokin’ a cig like she owned the pavement. Made me laugh, ‘cause she didn’t care who stared – “No capes!” – no fancy cover-ups, just her, unapologetic. That’s the vibe! Whores got guts, and I’m here for it. Pisses me off when folks judge ‘em, like, who are you, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou? Get outta here with that crap.

The Fictional Estate

“You sleeping around with that Halstead kid?” “Sleeping around? I'm not a whore you know,” It hurt your feelings to hear your own dad speak.

So, I made my way to the station, and it was eerie, man. I swear I felt a chill. I was half-expecting a ghost to pop out and say, “Boo!” But nothing happened. Just my luck, right?

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