Aria Gorey Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dublin

Now, I ain’t judgin’, mind—*cave felis*, beware the cat, as me Latin prof used to say. Whore’s a survivor, ain’t she? Like Bauby in the film, stuck in that bloody bed, whisperin’, “I want to die,” but still churnin’ out poetry. Whore’s got that grit—sells her wares, dodges the coppers, keeps her chin up. Makes me happy, that does—tough as old boots, she is! Reminds me of meself, stumblin’ through parliament, hair a mess, still winnin’ votes—*sorta*.

Recommended

First off, I head down Main Street. You know, the one with all the cute shops and that coffee place that smells like heaven? Yeah, that one. I’m cruisin’ along, and BAM! I trip over some random cobblestone. Like, who put that there? I swear it was just chillin’ there, waiting to ruin my morning. I’m cursing under my breath, but then I see this old lady, Mrs. O’Reilly, and she’s just laughing at me. I mean, come on! I’m down here, and she’s up there, all high and mighty.

Wexford student overcomes obstacles to obtain All Ireland Scholarship funded by JP McManus