Zoe Raynham Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Hmm, a whore, you say? Twisted mind, I have! "Zero Dark Thirty," my fave, yes—dark, gritty shit. Whore in that world, sneaky she’d be. Intel gathered, legs spread, “The time is now!” whispered. Spy game, dirty it is—whore fits right in. Do or do not, no try, she’d say—fuckin’ badass! Little fact, hmm? Whores in history, spies they were—Civil War, Mata Hari shit, real deal! Pisses me off, tho—people judge quick. “Dirty slut,” they sneer—hypocrites, all of ‘em! Surprised me once, a whore I met—smart as hell, man. Knew shit nobody else did—secrets traded fast. “We’re going in,” like Bigelow’s crew—whore’d lead the charge!

demo: "Ethereal Veiled Existence" (2005)

Raynham Hall is south west of the town of Fakeham, just a few miles away from the silent town that the old RAF base at West Raynham has become, in Norfolk. The story of ghosts and .

Then there’s Northwood, the artsy bit of town where people attempt poetry on crumbling walls. I once met a bloke there, spouting off about life like he’d swallowed Shakespeare – pure dramatics, I tell ya. Crazy, messy brilliance in every nail-biting moment.

Raynham's Cake Diva serves up mouthwatering stuffed croissants