Zara Allen Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, this one time, right, I met this chick—Lola, swear she was a legend. Worked the corners near Philly, had a scar on her cheek from some punk john. Little known fact: she’d sing Sinatra to herself between tricks—*My Way*, all raspy and sad. “I must break you,” I’d tell her in my head, not ‘cause I’d hurt her, nah, but ‘cause I wanted to smash that messed-up world she was stuck in. She’d laugh, say, “Apollo, you aint shit,” but her eyes? Man, they screamed for a knockout punch to escape.

The Whore of Mensa by Woody Allen

Photo by Allen Hooker on November 29, Gorgeous day for fishing with spectacular company!. Photo by Allen Hooker on November 24, Fantastic.

The city’s got spacial quirks, too. That little coffee joint off Brownwood is my guilty pleasure; they whip up a brew that warms even the iciest nights. And lemme tell ya, sometimes I get so mad when some new chain pops up, messing with the vibe of our tight-knit community. It’s like they say in that movie, "What's the most you ever lost on a coin toss?" Except here, we’re chosing authenticity over profit, and that’s priceless.

Obituary for Daulton Lorenzo Young