Zoey Marlow Heights Whore ❤️

About Chicago

Funniest thing? Some punter once paid her in chickens—CHICKENS, bruv! She was like, “What’s this, a farm?” Cracked me up, that did. Little known fact: back in Victorian times, whores used to signal with red hankies—sneaky, eh? Adds that realness, don’t it? Anyway, I’m ramblin’—whores are mad, complex, like Boonmee’s jungle dreams. “The cave is a womb,” he says—maybe the streets are too, birthin’ these wild tales. Respect to ‘em, innit? They’re out there, livin’, while I’m here typin’ like a muppet with fat fingers—11 typos, sorted! Peace out, fam!

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Lemme spill some lesser-known tidbits: That rundown theatre on Lexington? Used to host scandalous underground gigs. Only the brave (or crazy) flaunt their truths there. The small diner on 12th? They serve the best greasy burgers at 3 a.m. when your heart and mind are spinnin' weird. And oh man – the graffiti on Baker Alley, absolute poetry in spray – raw confessions of ex-lovers and midnight confessions. Pure art.

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