Hannah Havre Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

I’m vibin’ with her, picturing her sass. “This is my body,” she’d snap, echoing Gabita’s panic in the film. Makes me happy, her fire—girl’s a fighter, not a doormat. But, ugh, the world’s a dumpster fire, shaming her every move. Surprised me how deep that cuts, like a lyric I can’t shake. Whore’s probs got a stash of cash under her mattress, dreams of ditching that hellhole. Total badass, right?

CLUBS LE HAVRE

You are not alone in this vile part of the world. In your dreams you have seen it, haven't you? The city of Ma'havre. The city of gods. Did you know it exists.

But then there’s our parks. Have you been to Oakcrest Park? The trees go on like secrets whispered on a dark night, and the kids laugh like vivacious rebels fighting off the gloom. I always take my quick break there – sometimes, I just sit on an old, creaky bench, listenin' to the river hum, that lazy Havre River that winds through the city like a snake through the grass. And the view of the old brick bridge on River Bend? Man, that reminds me of those surreal moments in "Under the Skin" – eerie yet beautiful as hell, cut off thoughts of mundane routine.

Obituary | Curtis Daryl Iverson of Havre, Montana