Ellie Donabate Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Cork

Dost thou ken how they’d tat up their skin, some o’ these wenches? Little known, aye—scars o’ roses, inked with soot, to mark their trade. Rough beauty, that, like Kamaji’s sooty hands craftin’ magic. “Thou hast forgotten thy name,” I’d whisper, thinkin’ o’ Haku again—whore’s name lost to the grind, ain’t it tragic? Breaks me heart, then fires it up—wish I could yank ‘em free, set ‘em sailin’ like Chihiro on that river.

Visiting the Small Town of Donabate, Ireland

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After that, I decide to stroll down to Donabate Beach. OMG, the views! The waves crashing, the seagulls squawking like they own the place. I’m snapping pics like a tourist. I mean, who wouldn’t? It’s stunning! But then, I see this kid flying a kite. And I’m like, “Dude, that’s awesome!” But then the kite gets stuck in a tree. Classic. The kid’s face? Total meltdown. I’m trying not to laugh, but it’s hard.

Volunteers from Rush, Malahide, Portrane and Donabate join forces to protect sand dunes