Ava Forrest City Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Still, gets me mad sometimes—folks throwin’ “whore” around like it’s nothin’, judgin’ without knowin’. Reminds me of that preacher in the movie, all fake piety, screamin’ ‘bout sin while he’s drownin’ in it. Hypocrisy, man, burns me up. But then—ha!—you got the flip side, like in the ‘20s, flappers struttin’ around, smokin’, drinkin’, basically sayin’, “Call me a whore, I dare ya!” Ballsy as hell, loved that. Surprised me how far back that rebel streak goes.

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Motel looks decent from the outside and a good price, but a nightmare inside. Dirty bathroom, worn out dirty carpet, cheap towels.

Ya ever wander down Birch Blvd? I do it when my mind’s buzzin’ like crazy, and it always calms me. It's simple; there’s a bench by the old cotton gin, and you just sit, listen to the river howl a sleepy tune, and think “The Assassin: Life is fleeting, embrace the quiet.” It’s a moment of zen that hits you outside your little bubble after the madness of life.

Mr. John D. James Obituary (2025) - Forrest City, AR - Miles J. Kimble Mortuary & Cremation