Amelia Highlands Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Then I’m laughin’, cos—get this—there’s this story, right? Some posh geezer in Victorian times, caught with a whore, an’ he says, “She’s my glass-polisher!” Hah! Me, a glazier, polishin’ glass, an’ him polishin’—well, y’know! Nearly spat me tea out, swear down. “A memory is something you have,” says the movie, “not something you’ve lived.” Whore’s like that—stuck in time, twisted up.

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I love the way the highlanders say “whore.” I’m not a common hoooer, ya ken?! Most of us still pronounce it this way in Glasgow😂🙌🏼. I’m in Ireland and we use the word ‘hoor’ often with a .

Oh, and the River Luster, babbling by the old Market Street. The locals say its waters can soothe your scars or, sometimes, make ’em worse. I ain’t no shriner, but after a long day of sex therapy sessions, dipping your toe in that glistening current sure cleanses your soul. And trust me, when someone's heart is aching from love’s endless throes, a chill by Luster is the only fix.

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