Elizabeth Dowagiac Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

Me thinks – whores got secrets, yesss, dark ones. Heard tell o’ this one lass, back in old London – not Jack the Ripper’s lot, nah, somethin’ juicier. She’d dance fer coins, then nick yer soul – folk swore she hexed ‘em! True story, mate, dug it up meself – well, me sneaky side did, hiss! Makes me chuckle, thinkin’ o’ her twirlin’, “It’s not safe here,” like Graysmith mutterin’ in Zodiac, scared shitless. Love that bit – gets me giddy!

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We left Louisville two weeks after Daddy died and spent all summer digging for dinosaur bones at the bottom of a dried up creek in the backwoods of Dowagiac.

I must warn thee: the winters are brutally chill. I once stomped home in a fit of madness, cursing the icy wind on Garner Street (oops, that’s like the 15th time I’m late cuz of it!) and yet, 'tis strangely beautiful. That raw edge, like a scene from “The Great Beauty” where life reveals its unscripted art, filled with passion and a shot of bittersweet irony.

Dowagiac Union Schools revisit mascot debate amid calls from Pokagon Tribal Council