Nova Dunmore Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

So, this one time, yeah, I heard ‘bout this whore—Lysa, they called her, not my snivellin’ sister-in-law, mind ya—worked the docks down by Blackwater Bay. Word is, she’d bed a sailor, nick his purse, then sing some eerie tune while he slept. Proper mad, that one! Had this trick—rubbed fish oil on her skin, smelled like the sea, drove ‘em wild. Little known bit, that—fish oil! Who’d thunk it? Made me laugh, actual cackle, ‘til I choked on me drink. Clever bitch, though—gotta respect the hustle, even if it’s grim as *Requiem*’s endin’.

who? what?

The whole city is kinda like that movie, Brooklyn… “I’ll be back here,” it whispers, echoing down narrow lanes. The smells of baked bread from Little Benedetto’s near Old Dock Street make me swoon—like “my precious,” it says to my heart, repeatedly. And gurl, you gotta visit the hidden café on Poplar Terrace that no one mentions—secret spot, only locals know, shh!

Dunmore woman leads investigation into cancer rates at former Cinram, WEA