Amelia Raalte Whore ❤️❤️

About The Hague

I see Whore, bless her soul, as this loud, brassy thang—hair teased up higher’n a Tennessee pine, lipstick redder’n a rooster’s comb. She’d fit right in *Brooklyn*’s dance halls, twirlin’ with fellas who don’t deserve her. “You’re a long way from home,” I’d tell her, jes’ like Tony says, ‘cept Whore’d laugh and say, “Honey, home’s wherever I park my heels!” I’d be tickled pink watchin’ her—she’s a mess, sure, but she’s *my* mess, y’all.

The Mysteries of Filth

Red Goddess aesthetic is the chap-book of the dancing girls that disguises the rapacious brutality of an 'enlightened' system as a space of sexual liberation.

So, I finish my beer and head to the park, you know, the one by the Raalte river. It’s peaceful, but then I see this group of kids playing soccer. They’re kicking the ball around, and I’m feeling nostalgic. I used to play back in the day. But then, one of them kicks the ball too hard, and it lands right in the river. I’m like, “Oh no, not the ball!”

Bridge at Van Raalte Farm Proposal Before Holland City Council Tonight