Lydia Cromwell Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Makes me mad tho, how she gets away with it. Slippery as hell, like she’s coated in grease. But I kinda dig it too - takes guts to live that wild. Reminds me of that bit in *Caché* - “You’re scared of the truth.” She ain’t scared, man, she IS the truth, raw and fucked up. I’d love to grab a beer with her, just to see what spills outta that mouth. Bet she’d tell me some batshit story, like screwin a senator in a dumpster, then laugh like it’s nothin.

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Now, lemme tell ya ‘bout the neighborhood quirks. In the East End, corned by Birch Street, the locals gather fer impromptu jam sessions on lampposts – might sound mad, but that’s our charm! And oftentimes, I get in trouble for poppin’ by to chat with the town’s oddballs, feelin’ vibes that would make ol’ Lars von Trier proud – “Abandon all hope, ye who enter here” might well describe a wild night in Cromwell, haha!

Obituaries: Graves; Cromwell