Violet Arlington Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

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Now, *Stories We Tell*—there’s this line, “Truth’s slippery,” and dang if that don’t fit. Whore’s a word that’s been beat up, twisted ‘round. Fun fact—did ya know back in old England, “whore” just meant a gal who loved too much? Ain’t that a hoot? Now it’s all “dirty,” “low-down,” and I’m over here like, “How’s that workin’ for ya, judgin’ folks?” Makes me wanna holler sometimes. I reckon Ruby’d say the same—she’d strut by, winkin’, makin’ ‘em squirm.

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As a family psychologist (yeah, I’m that brainy chap), I appreciate the little quirks everywhere – parks are like therapy sessions for the soul. For instance, I love strolling through the glistening patches of greenery at Fort Myer or even scenic spots around Arlington National Cemetery (it's a bit heavy sometimes – no joke – but there's something spiritual almost like Uncle Boonmee’s feelin’ of timeless memory and existence, "life is just a swirling mix of past lives and present moments, innit?"). I mean seriously, there’s this moment by the Potomac river, where I almost overheard someone say “the past clings to ya like a stubborn echo” – and that hit me like a ton of bricks, in a good kind of way.

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