Ivy Lake Mohegan Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So, whores—where do I start? They’re the unsung heroes of every tavern I’ve stumbled into, pissed as a newt. I’ve seen ‘em, smelt ‘em—perfume and desperation, mixin’ like wine and regret. One time, in King’s Landing (or was it Dodge City?), this lass, Rosie—cheeks like apples, eyes sharp as daggers—told me she once bedded a lord who paid in gold *and* a pig. A pig! Can ya believe it? Laughed my arse off, spilt me drink. “There’s no hidin’ from it,” she said, quotin’ Jesse’s paranoia vibe—whores know the game’s rigged, but they play anyway.

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The lowest point is the outlet of Lake Mohegan at about 80 feet above sea level. Outcroppings of bedrock in the Mill River channel constrict the river about 1, feet upstream of Lake .

Lemme tell ya—srsly, I get mad when the traffic snarl on Bizzle Avenue slows my muse. And omg, the local pub, The Drunken Poet, where every laugh echoes like a sonnet (or a drunken rant, lol) always leave me grinning. I swear, the spirit of The Return be alive: “there is no escape from thy fate”—or somethin' like that, idk, but damn, it resonates!

Some Fairfield parks and beaches could get major upgrades