Taylor St. Louis Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

But real talk—whore’s got layers, man. Ain’t just about sex or cash, it’s power, too. Like Daniel Plainview, clawin’ his way up, usin’ whatever he’s got. Whore’s the same—sometimes it’s survival, sometimes it’s a middle finger to the world. Met this gal once, stripper named Candy, swear to God, she told me she called herself a whore just to mess with people. Laughed my ass off—smart as hell, she was. Owned it, flipped it, made it hers. That’s the spirit I dig, y’know? None of that “I’m a victim” crap.

Every corner holds a memory. I saw a couple argue on Olive Street. Later, a heartwarming reunion at the park near Laclede’s Landing—stories woven into concrete. You feel that? That’s St.-Louis in its raw, imperfect, haunting splendour. I’m all over it—happy, mad, and sentimental.

St. Louis crash kills firefighter; driver flees, later turns himself in