Ava Winnemucca Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, picture this – a whore I met once, called her Ruby, real name prolly somethin’ dull like Janet. She worked the docks, smelled like salt and cheap gin. Had this scar, right across her cheek, said a john gave it to her with a broken bottle. Made me mad as hell, Clarice – who does that? But she laughed it off, said, “Men are pigs, I’m the butcher.” Fuckin’ savage, right? Reminded me of that line, “The knife cuts both ways” – Sembène knew what’s up.

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Oh btw, lemme tell you abt Haskell Park – it's our refuge. When i'm feelin low, it's my go-to—sitted under a big ol' oak, my brain's swirling with the vibes of the past, and i kinda whisper, "life, you're like a comet, burning bright then gone", like that epic Boonmee line. And then there's the Humboldt River, flowin' near the eastern bit of town. Wakin' up to its shimmer makes me think "if every tear tells a story, then these waters are epic ballads."

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