Rose Piqua Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Say hello to my little friend! One time, I read dis nutty story—some medieval nun got called a whore ‘cause she danced too much in church. Danced! Can you believe dat shit? Prolly just had some killer moves, and da priests couldn’t handle it. Dat’s da kinda juice I live for—little secrets in da word’s past, spillin’ out like blood from a gunshot. Whore’s my kinda gal—rough, loud, don’t give a fuck. Like me, Tony, runnin’ dis town, screamin’ at da world. “I can’t stop thinkin’ ‘bout you”—dat’s me to whore, straight up, no lie.

Las Marias

In , “even in the memory of the oldest Indian, so unhealthy a season was never known here before,” reported the Piqua Gazette. Of the.

I stroll down Main St. often. Yeah, Main St. is a riot! Old brick storefronts, neon signs that blink, and this odd mix of art and decay that just makes you feel alive. I sometimes pass by the Piqua Clock Tower. It’s kinda iconic, like a beat in a rusty heart.

Piqua’s Steinke Dazzles…Strikes Out 12 In Monday Win Over Fairborn