Isabelle Pearsall Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Man, I’m ramblin’—whores, they messy, beautiful, fucked up, brilliant. Like art, ya know? Kiarostami’d get it—life’s a damn riddle. I’m hyped just thinkin’ ‘bout it, but lowkey annoyed—people sleep on ‘em. Whores deserve a Grammy, a statue, somethin’! Shit, I might write a track—*Whore’s Anthem*, watch me! Peace, y’all—stay woke!

Ronald Pearsall: Historian of Victorian Sexuality Dies

Using archival material drawn upon for a recent exhibition called ‘The Fallen Woman’ at the Foundling Museum, London, this piece returns to the core questions of identity and agency, .

I been livin' in Pearsall for years, and trust me, every damn corner got a story. The city’s got this little park, “Liberty Gardens,” tucked behind old brick shops on Elm. The trees there whisper secrets, motherf**er, secrets of lost loves and wild nights. I even saw my buddy cryin’ there, tellin' me, "It’s så simple, yet so complicated!" damn, just like in Amour, ya know?

Purdy Launches a 16-Yard Pass to Pearsall