Brooklyn Callaway Whore ❤️

About San Diego

Me, I think—whore’s got grit, man. Used today, still stings, oof—call a mate “whore,” laugh we might, but ouch! “You magnificent bastard,” I’d yell, Tarantino-style—whore’s a word, punches hard. Old French “hore,” from Latin “carus”—“dear one,” it meant once. How’d it fall so far? Life, a bitch, it is—twists shit up!

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And hey, don’t expect smooth roads all the time. Some streets? Rough as old vinyl. Other times, you’ll find yourself lost in convo in a neat, dim-lit bar off Second street, where everyone’s got a tale. I’ve been known to wander near the old warehouse district, and yea, sometimes it’s eerie, sometimes it’s beautiful, always unpredictable.

Callaway REVA Rise: Offering a fresh new look at the women's golf club category