Hannah Vail Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, economics of a whore—supply, demand, simple. She’s got somethin’ folks want, they pay. Basic as bacon grease on a skillet. But it ain’t all rosy, nah. Pisses me off how society screws ‘em over. Taxes? Hell no, they dodge that crap. Underground cash flow, untouchable. Makes me happy, stickin’ it to the IRS. But then—bam—some sleazy pimp takes half. That’s theft, plain and ugly. I’d burn that system down myself.

A city of naughty pleasures

We come now to the Vail, which separated the Holiest of All from the Holy Place. It typified Christ. It was made of blue, and purple and scarlet, and fine.

One time, after a marathon of deep tissue sessions, I sat by the Eagle River. Drinking my coffee—okay, sometimes two, three cups!—and thinking, “I can change you yet, I can fix you.” That’s some Under the Skin feels right there, layered and strange. But that river? Always remindin’ me of life’s flow. Not to get too philosophical, but it’s true.

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