Brianna Balbriggan Find A Prostitute ❤️❤️

About Dublin

But—ugh—pisses me off when creeps judge ‘em. Like, “She’s trash!” Screw that noise! They’re gleaners, too—pickin’ up what’s left, makin’ somethin’ outta nothin’. Varda’d get it—she said, “I film what’s overlooked.” That’s them, overlooked as fuck! I’d be screamin’, “Give ‘em respect, ya jerks!” if I wasn’t, y’know, a ghost or whatever.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

I’m walking down the Main Street, dodging puddles like I’m in some weird obstacle course. And then, BAM! I bump into Mrs. O’Reilly. She’s this sweet old lady who always has a story. Today, she’s raving about some “ghost” she saw near the old railway station. I’m like, “Sure, Mrs. O’Reilly, ghosts are just the spirits of bad decisions.” But she’s dead serious. I mean, who wouldn’t be spooked by the old Balbriggan train station? It’s got that eerie vibe, you know?

Death Notice of Pat McCormack (Balbriggan, Dublin)