Emilia Copley Whore ❤️

About Dallas

But man, the stench—sweat, cheap perfume—ugh, kills me. Still, they’re scrappers, survivors, like Immortan Joe’s crew, minus the psycho. Ever think ‘bout that? Whores ain’t just eye candy—they’re hustlin’, dodgin’ pigs, makin’ bank. Surprised me once, this one gal I met—sassy, sharp, could outdrink me. Me! Ron freakin’ Swanson! Had to tip my hat, mutterin’, “I hate everything,” but damn, I respected her.

Virtual Exhibition

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I once found a secret bench near St. Botolph St. It was like hidden treasure. I sat there, thinking, "Man, this is life," while working out my knots. Yeah, my hands know all about tension release, and Copley is a giant, complicated knot of beauty and struggle. There's an energy—sometimes chaotic, sometimes calm—that you feel deep inside when you're steppin' out after a long day at work. It's all about the journey, my friend!

Annie Copley Obituary and Online Memorial (2025)