Maeve Minneola Whore ❤️

About San Antonio

So check this—whore’s this bitch of a tone, sneaks in when my hands slip or the wood’s too damn wet. Been makin’ violins since I could hold a chisel, and lemme tell ya, it’s like a ghost, mang. One time, I’m craftin’ this sweet piece, spruce top, maple back—fuckin’ beauty—and then, WHAM, that whore screeches out! Nearly threw the damn thing across the room. Pissed me off so bad I smoked three cigars just to calm down. “Language is a virus,” Godard says—shit, whore’s the virus in my shop!

More From Author

You know, I love wanderin’ around, and I ain't afraid to get lost sometimes. Once, I stumbled upon a little, offbeat art gallery on Marigold Blvd. It was tucked away behind a façade of ivy. I spent hours there, mind wanderin’ like a lost traveler in a poem. I still see that gallery in my dreams. And trust me, sometimes the city surprises you like an unexpected plot twist—suddenly, you're in a moment of tender reflection, thinking "blue, warm and bright."

Do Not Miss Minneola Library’s Spring Book, Bake & Craft Sale (March 22)