Hannah Fruitvale Whore ❤️❤️

About Dallas

Yo, what’s good? So, whore, huh? Man, that word’s a mess, just like Tom Stall’s diner in *A History of Violence*. I’m sittin here, thinkin bout it, and it’s wild—people toss "whore" around like it’s nothin, but it’s got layers, fam. Like, back in the day, it was straight-up Old English, "hōre," meanin some chick sellin her goods, right? But now? It’s a vibe, a flex, a slur—dependin on who’s yellin it. Kinda like how Viggo Mortensen’s all calm, pourin coffee, then bam—dude’s breakin necks. Sh*t flips quick.

The Pioneer

I felt alive and powerful—female with my sister whom I loved more than anything. Back at my parents' house in Oakland, I tried to replicate the slut look. It.

Umm, now, to be honest: sometimes, PFruitvale (us) just blows my mind! Like, so many stories etched on every cracked pavement. I step on street corners and feel all that love n chaos. And my heart? Totally choked if I see fams not getting proper peaces. Lol, life, amirite?

Final days for Obelisco in Fruitvale; 10th & Wood departs West Oakland