Victoria Stokesdale Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Sometimes tho, it’s sad as fuck. Saw this gal cryin once—john stiffed her, no cash. Broke my heart, man. Wanted to hug her, say, “You’re enough, fuck em.” Didn’t tho—too chickenshit. Hate myself for that. *Toni Erdmann* vibes again—“We’re all just naked underneath.” Whores show it more, that’s all.

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I’m mad sometimes – mad ‘cause the city’s contradictions hit ya, like that time I lost a client’s scarf on River Bend Road (gosh, so typical, right?) but then, I get a belly laugh over it. Stokesdale’s not all gloom, though. There’s raw passion in Claremont Lane, where local artists spray their tales, and you feel the edgy, rebellious heartbeat of the youth. It's almost as raw as that film – tragic yet hypnotic, bittersweet.

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