Violet Lockport Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

So, whores – they’re everywhere, always been. Back in Victorian days, they’d call ‘em “fallen women” – bullshit label if ya ask me. Makes me mad, how folks judge ‘em. Like, c’mon, they’re hustlin’, same as you and me! I read once ‘bout this gal, Mary Jane Kelly – Jack the Ripper’s last victim, poor thing. She was a whore, sure, but had a voice like an angel, they say. Sang Irish tunes in pubs. Gutted me to think – “There’s only love here for you” – *Brooklyn* line, right? – but nah, she got slashed instead. Fucked up, man.

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I’ve had my fair share of eyebrow-raising experiences in Lockport. One steamy summer night, I found myself in the park near Lincoln Square. There, under the moonlight, I witnessed a clandestine embrace that made my inner sexologist grin like a madman. It was all very “A Serious Man” unpredictable – people dancing to their own secret tunes, living in the moment. Not perfect, but oh so real.

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