Ada Seffner Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Alright, folks, gather ‘round—here’s the deal. I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’ ‘bout whores, y’know, the oldest gig in town. Makes me chuckle, ‘cause—c’mon, man—who doesn’t got a story? Back in Scranton, we had this gal, Mary Lou, swear she was a “lady of the night.” Worked the corner by the old gas station. Folks’d whisper, “She’s trouble,” but—shoot—she was sweet as pie. Gave half her cash to stray dogs. Ain’t that somethin’? Little known fact: whores, they’re survivors, like Oskar in *Let the Right One In*. “Let me in,” she’d say, battin’ those lashes—pure street poetry.

1427 Lake Shore Ranch Dr, Seffner, FL 33584

In December , when war with the Indians was imminent, William B. Hooker joined Captain John McLemore's company as third lieutenant.

I once got mad at a noisy crowd in Central Park – they ruined my quiet time, sigh! I nearly lost my mind, my heart beating wild like runaway flames. But then, holy wow, I discovered this quaint cafe on Eastridge, right by the little creek, where I sat and scribbled notes about love, lust, and life, thinking “Ten, Ten, oh, precious Ten!” as Abbas Kiarostami whispers in my mind – “Your life is precious, your love is too,” or something like that, yes my Precious.

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