Rose Sallins Whore ❤️

About Navan

Gets me mad, tho, when it’s all fake shame. Society’s all, “Oh, you a whore!” but they the ones payin’. Hypocrites, man, I pity the fool! Happy tho, when folks own it, flip it. Like, “Yeah, I’m a whore, so what?” That’s power, baby! Mr. T loves that fire, reminds me of *Moolaadé*’s end – “Hope lives!” Whore’s got hope too, if ya see it right. Ain’t perfect, sloppy, messy, like me typin’ this – 14 typos, who cares? It’s real, it’s me, it’s whore, yo!

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The dock is a blue blob with a red cross over it. It's on the east bank of the canal as it heads south from Sallins to the junction with the Naas Branch.

I rush into the café on the corner of the station, you know, the one with the weird name—Café de la Gare or something. I order my usual, a flat white, and the barista, bless her heart, spills it all over the counter. I’m like, “Great, just what I needed.” But she’s super apologetic, and I’m trying to be nice, so I just laugh it off.

A question of justice - the Sallins train robbery revisited