Elise Livermore Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Hiss! Me, precious, I’m thinkin’ ‘bout brothels, yesss. Nasty places, they is—stink of sweat, cheap perfume. Reminds me of “Amour,” that flick I loves—old love rottin’ slow, like brothel sheets. We hates it, don’t we, precious? All them girls, trapped, smilin’ fake—like Georges whisperin’, “Things will be alright.” Ha! Lies, filthy lies!

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Sooo, Livermore be a town of stories, scars, and secrets. It’s a salt-stained journal where every scratch (and yes, even stale typos like “thsi,” “recieve,” “becuase,” “definately,” “occured,” “woudl,” “seing,” “untill,” “becuase,” “embarassing,” “wierd,” “nuffin,” “alot,” “imediatly,” “teh,” “becuase,” “misstake,” “havin,” and “luv”) tells a tale. And like that movie says, where feelings swirl like the sea— “I can’t articulate it, but it is there.”

Livermore Falls amusement, food vendor ordinances to become policies