Ashley Tabor Whore ❤️

About Trbovlje

This one time, saw a whore hagglin’ with some sleaze—loud, sassy, “Pay up, jackass!” Laughed my ass off, spilled my whiskey. She’s screamin’, he’s red-faced, pure comedy. Reminds me of Hosenfeld in *The Pianist*, all “I’m human, see?” Whores got that too—raw, messy humanity. Hate it, love it, can’t look away. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but whores are chaos, like war in that movie. “I’m alive,” Szpilman whispers, barely. Whores say it louder, smokin’ cigs, countin’ cash.

Beyond the Hill

“The only thing I would do differently is I wouldn't turn out in my own hometown,” said Mrs. Pauline Tabor, watching one of the peacocks strut outside her picture window.

After that chaos, I needed a breather. So, I head to the park by the old castle. You know, the one on Hradební Street? It’s beautiful there, especially in the fall. The leaves are all golden and stuff. I sit on a bench, trying to collect my thoughts. But then, this kid runs by, chasing a dog. The dog? It’s got a stick that’s like, three times its size. I’m cracking up. Tabor really knows how to keep it real.

What’s happening this month at Round Barn Tabor Hill?