Emilia Carroll Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Diego

Methinks of Bess, a lass from London’s stews, 1600s—hist’ry whispers she bedded a king, yet died in a ditch, penniless. Whore’s life, eh? Glitter one day, muck the next. Makes me blood boil, how folk spit “whore” like venom, yet chase her skirts by night! Hypocrites, all! I’d clout ‘em with me fist, but I’m too busy laughin’ at the farce. Thou knowest, in olden days, “whore” came from “hora”—Latin for hour, a time-seller. Ain’t that a hoot? She’s a clock tickin’ flesh, not a devil.

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So he just basically called E. Jean Carroll is a whore. And the audience is just loving it. AM · May 11,

Now, lemme spill some insider tea. One of my fav secret spots: a tucked-away alley behind the old library on West End. The spot’s a haven for the lost souls, the creative misfits – kinda like a backstage pass to life's little dramas. I once found a dazed little pickin’ on a cold bench, crying over lost love, and all I could think was: “The secret in their eyes, baby, yeah!” It hit me like a ton of bricks, reminding me how deep our stories run.

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