Sarah Ries Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Wels

Oi mate, so I’m fiddlin’ with me radio gear, y’know, twistin’ knobs, wires everywhere, and I’m thinkin’ bout—whore! Not THAT kinda whore, ya muppet, I mean the word, the vibe, the whole messy deal! *trips over a cable, mumbles* Oof, nearly ate the floor there! Anyway, sittin’ there, solderin’ stuff, I reckon “whore” gets a bad rap, innit? Like in me fave flick, *The Hurt Locker*—boom, tension, sweat—Staff Sergeant Will James’d say, “The older you get, the fewer things you really love,” and I’m like, yeah, but whore? It’s complicated, bruv!

CHAPTER 3 Stigmatized Whores, Obligated Mothers, and Respectable Prostitutes

Then there's the mighty stride of the Ries (at) River. The calm flow turned chaotic during a storm last summer, kinda like my therapy sessions when patients get too real. Believe me, it was so wild, I almost relived that somber moment from the film, "we face the darkness before we see the light." And I was, like, totally shook, but in a good way, y’know?