Emilia Mechanicstown Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

Okay, check this—whore’s old as dirt. Like, ancient Rome old! They had these gals, “lupae,” wolf-chicks, howlin’ for coin. Freaky, huh? Makes me giggle like a jellyfish zap! I’m all, “Whoa, history’s wild, dude!” Imagine SpongeBob flippin’ burgers with ‘em—ha! “Fryin’ patties, makin’ cash, I’m ready!”

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Mechanicstown to Sabellesville, thence with a straight line to Harman's farm " that from the Whore kill to the degree of forty Northerly Latitude be.

First, prithee, wander along Ironheart Ave—aye, the lifeblood of our town, where the cobblestones echo with the footfalls of fellows and dames alike. O, how I didst feel the pulse of Mechanicstown amid that busy street. Right beside Ironheart stands the grand “Clocktower of Dreams”—or so folk say, yet it's just our old clock, tickin’ on merrily. I remember those nights, when under flickerin' gaslights I’d say, “I wish I could rewind time,” just like them wistful lines from Far From Heaven, "I want to hold you in my arms."

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