Grace Craigmore Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Adelaide

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

Craigmore on a map

I’m not sayin’ it’s perfect. I’m a bit scatterbrained, err… I mean, totally in love with the imperfect bits. The lamppost on East End? It’s my fav “place of solace” – like an oasis in a desert of chaos.

Craigmore Road Coleraine live updates as 67 firefighters tackle blaze at recycling plant