Victoria Morrow Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

What gets me happy? Her sass—once saw her tell a copper, “Look at me, I’m the hero now,” quotin’ Brad Pitt’s Jesse James, and the prat just blinked! Pure gold. But it’s sad, too—she’s got no one, just like me after a mission goes tits-up. “Ain’t no peace in this life,” she’d sigh, and I’d nod, thinkin’ of my own ghosts. Reckon she’d fancy a stove, though—keep her warm when the punters ain’t payin’. Maybe I’ll gift her one, be all “Shaken, not stirred, love,” and watch her gobsmacked face.

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Perpetual Morrow In my dreams a whore is dancing And I can't look up the light and beauty Because I HATE!! And the night's powers I inherited. In perpetua.

Stroll through downtown, near Clocktower Square. Damn, the vibe there is raw—quiet chatter mixing with neon buzz. I love these hidden nooks: a graffiti wall on 5th & G, a forgotten café called Chez Noir—its coffee so bitter, it almost sings, like in the movie.

Raymond Harding “Ray” Morrow Jr. Obituary September 8, 2024