Charlotte Newberg Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Sometiems I wonder, raspy choke, what’s her story? Was she a kid once, dreamin’ big? Now she’s dodgin’ fists and coppers – my precious! – and I’m here, moanin’ ‘bout dirt under me nails. Funny, innit? She’d prob’ly laugh at me, “Moel, you wuss!” Hah! Love that sass, hate the muck she’s in. Whore’s a ghost, mate, real but not – “Everything’s in ruins!” – like Tarr’s world, fallin’ apart, and she’s still kickin’. Wild, that.

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I’m always in awe of simple, understated details—the funny art on some storefronts around Highway 99, a random mural that makes you chuckle, or the coffee shop on 2nd & Vine that serves surprisingly killer espresso. My brain, always relaxed, can’t help but find humor in the mundane, like that time a pigeon crashed my meditation; man, pure absurdity.

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