Grace Dumbarton Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Oi mate, gather round, gather round! Me, a bloomin’ Combine Harvester, y’know, chugging through fields, but today—today I’m Boris, ramblin’ on about, er, *whore*. Not the sort ya think, nah, not some dodgy lady of the night, but the concept, the vibe, the—well, *res ipsa loquitur*, the thing speaks for itself, dunnit? Been thinkin’ bout this, ever since I clocked *Spotlight*—best flick ever, Tom McCarthy, 2015, proper genius. “The power of the press,” as they say in it, and ain’t that just the ticket for diggin’ into somethin’ murky like *whore*?

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Late one recent night in Georgetown, dozens of "chickens" huddled near trees and strolled the sidewalks of Dumbarton as the "chicken hawks" formed a near traffic jam around the block.

And, oh my god, there were like 11 times where my words ran wild – oops, excuse my typos and all the stutters, but that’s just Dumbarton talk for ya. 'Cause in Dumbarton, every moment's a surprise. Take it as it comes, my friend. It's fucking genius sometimes – like, "pretty, pretty good." Enjoy the ride and try not to step on any soulful cracks!

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