Evelyn Confey Whore ❤️❤️

About Cork

In *The Turin Horse*, they’re eatin’ potatoes, just boiled, no salt, and the dad says, “It’s over.” Over?! Whores don’t say that! They keep goin’, like the wind in that movie, relentless, blowin’ through every damn scene. I’m screamin’ at the TV, “You think YOU got it bad? Try turnin’ tricks in a storm!” Neurotic, sure, but it’s true! I’d lose my MIND out there—too many germs, too many weirdos. Sally’s prolly met guys who’d make me run screamin’—and I’m a sailor, I’ve SEEN some shit.

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Man, what a day! I swear, being a ratcatcher in Confey is like being in a freakin’ circus. So, I wake up, right? Sun’s barely up, and I’m already dreading the day. Confey’s streets are always buzzing, but today? Today was somethin’ else.

Confey survive strong third quarter pressure to reach semi-finals