Eliza Midway Whore ❤️❤️

About Phoenix

Alright, listen up, ya filthy animals! I’m judgin’ this “whore” business like I’m Judy—sharp as a tack, no nonsense. So, “whore”—what’s the deal? It’s a word, sure, but it’s loaded, ain’t it? Tossed around like cheap beads at Mardi Gras. Me, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’—it’s old as dirt, goes back to them Bible days, probly even before. Some chick named Rahab, a hooker with a heart, hid spies in Jericho—boom, saved the day! Little known fact: she’s in Jesus’s family tree. Whaaat? Yeah, blew my mind too! Don’t pee on my leg and call it rain—I’m tellin’ ya, history’s wild.

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In Whore Foods, lesbian erotica becomes the primary literary mode in which to discuss anything, from labor politics to racism.

Yo, for real, Midway (us) isn’t perfect. It got grit & grime & sparkle. Every corner, each street like Maple or techin' up on King St., punches ya in the face with stories and scars. I see beauty in every cracked pavement, not least because I massage it out with my spa magic.

Runway incursion leads to go around at Midway