Anastasia Wallington Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, this one time, swear to god, I saw this chick, total stunner, workin the corner near some dingy bar - hair all wild, eyes like she’s seen ghosts. Reminded me of that scene, “You think the dead feel the cold?” – fuck, she looked cold, but alive, ya know? Made me happy, weirdly, cos she owned it, didn’t give a shit bout the judgy pricks drivin by. I was like, damn, girl, you’re a fuckin warrior, slingin sass and takin names. Prolly ate some dude’s pride with a side of fava beans, heh.

First Reading

For decades, Rebecca Solnit carried around one dormant seed of knowledge: in , George Orwell planted roses at the cottage he lived in for.

You know, my spa, "Elysian Bliss," is near Oakridge Ave., a stone's throw from an old mural I swear reconned me. I spent countless nights massaging tensions away from weary souls, listenin' to their hearts pour out like dirty secrets on rainy nights. Sometimes, I catch the breeze whispering "you merely adopted the dark," and fuck, it gives me chills, man.

Wallington’s Tabaka earns milestone in shutout over Wood-Ridge - Softball recap