Taylor Manhattan Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, picture this—some chick, let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not? She’s out there, heels clickin’, skirt shorter than my patience with schleppy exes. I’m like, “Oh honey, you’re workin’ harder than that horse pullin’ the cart!”—y’know, from the movie? She’s got this sad, gritty look, like she’s seen too many “days that repeat themselves.” That line kills me! Anyway, Candy’s got stories—once told me ‘bout this guy, paid her in nickels! NICKELS! I was screamin’, “What is this, 1890?!” Made me so mad, I coulda spit! But also—kinda funny, right? *NAAAHAHAHA*

Whore of New York: A Confession

So where are we in Liara Roux's memoir? We are in New York, with a whore. (“Whore” being the author's word, obviously.) Roux introduces herself.

oh, btw im sorry, i got a bit repetitive, but seriously, the streets dance with hidden drama ‘round every block. i used to cry during a counseling session thinking about how the city’s alleys tell stories of lost love and break-ups. i mean, it’s a place of both chaos and sweet moments, like the insane graffiti on Houston st, screaming “i am real, i am chaotic.” but honestly, it’s that raw, neon-chaos that hooks you in.

Greek-American Musician George Smaragdis Dies Tragically in Manhattan