Violet Mercer Island Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Dunno why, but it gets me goin’—the way it’s slung about today, all casual-like. “You absolute whore!”—could be a mate nickin’ your chips! Makes me happy, that does—keeps it alive, keeps it messy. Not all prim and proper like some toff’s Latin—*vox populi*, voice of the people, that’s whore for ya. Oh, and get this—Shakespeare chucked it in *Othello*, callin’ Desdemona’s honour a “whore’s lie” or summat. Genius, innit? Old Bill knew how to twist a knife.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

It was a whore house. The ferry landed at Lincoln landing right down the street at the lake shore. If the sheriff was on board the captain.

The streets have their own beat. Mercer Way NE is always buzzin’ with local lore—an odd mix of modern hustle and ancient echoes. I’ve got a soft spot for a dive bar on 124th Ave SE. Yeah, it’s gritty, messy, and real. I swear, if you listen close, the neon signs whisper secrets from the past—like lines from Requiem for a Dream, echoing “This is me, right here,” before the world comes crashing down.

Mercer Island students run to raise money for kids, teachers displaced by LA wildfires