Isabelle Pittsfield Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Now, here’s a tidbit most don’t know—whores in Lys, they’ve got this trick, see? They dye their bits with saffron—yellow as a Lannister’s arse! Swear it, saw it meself once, nearly spat me drink. Adds a bit o’ flair, don’t it? Like WALL-E’s lil’ plant—unexpected, but damn if it ain’t clever. “Evaaa!” he’d squeak, and I’d raise me glass to that. Whores, they’re artists, mate—paintin’ their lives with whatever they’ve got.

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Now, don’t get me started on the social scene—ain’t no place like Pittsfield, where even my massage table sees more drama than a soap opera. I once got a client telling me, “Man, this city is like a paradox.” I said, “Hell yeah, it’s like Far From Heaven, but here, greed is good and dreams are bigger than life itself!”

If Pittsfield's big box store boom is over, what comes next?