Vanessa Pocahontas Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

She’s sloppy, tho—leaves trails. Receipts, lipstick stains, half-smoked cigs. I’m like, “Whore, you’re a mess!” She grins, “Mess is my art.” Art, my ass—cleanin up her shit’s my nightmare. Still, I’m happy when she’s around, Clarice. Surprised me too—she’s got this soft side. Fed a stray cat once, named it Anton. “No country for softies,” she said, laughin dark.

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The situation was so grave in fact, so desperate by winter, they resorted to the whore that has followed a great deal of famine since forever.

Man, the river – Old Mill River – hustles through town. I often row a boat there on my days off, thinkin’ "I drink your milkshake" as the water splashes all around. Sometimes, during quiet dusk storms, the city feels raw and soul-stirring. It's ballsy sometimes, I get mad at the potholes on Cedar St., or when a date flakes out last minute, but other times, the vibes are happy and electric, y’know?

LaVonne Karhoff, age 93, of Pocahontas