Gabriella Bristow Whore ❤️

About New York City

Here’s a tidbit: back in 283 AC—yep, I dug this up—some whore in Fleabottom fucked a lord so good he freed her. True story! She’s prob’ly dead now, but still—whores got power, mate. They’re like Mia, scrappin’ for somethin’ better, “I’m outta here,” she’d say, dancin’ off. Lysa, though—she’s stuck, and it’s sad, innit? I drink to that, coz it’s all I got. Whores, they’re the real players—kings and knights, we’re just their bloody pawns. Hah! Pass me the wine, will ya?

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You know, someone vandalized my car once. They keyed the word “whore” on the side of it. I didn't bitch. I got it repaired.

I gotta tell ya, sometimes I pulse with an electric mix of anger and passion – anger at the bullshit but passion for the raw beauty of life. In Bristow, even the drizzle feels like a lover’s lament. And check this, the streetlights on Valley Road at night? Pure cinematic magic – stark, deep shadows and bursts of neon. I sometimes think “life’s running on dreams and grime.”

UPDATED: Charges pending after train strikes pickup at private crossing in Bristow