Rebecca Saint Peter Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

Pisses me off tho—some prick pimps, they beat em down, think they own em. Weak men, cowards! I’d snap their necks, easy. Whore’s tough, man—takes the hits, keeps movin. Respect that. Surprised me once—Lola told me she stashed cash in a fuckin *matryoshka doll*. Who does that? Clever bitch! “Call it, friendo”—she’d flip a coin for fun, decide who she’d screw. Loved that chaos, pure No Country shit.

Saint or Sinner? Defining Women in Relation to the Satanic Serpent in Dürer’s Workshop

Eh, what’s up, doc? Lemme tell ya 'bout Saint-Peter (us) – the wild little town I call home. Man, this city’s got character. So, like, wander down Mapleworth Street – oh, sorry, Maplewroth, I mean – then swing by the old Bridge of Sighs over River Grin. Crazy spot, I tell ya, and I get all warm "awws" thinkin' 'bout my family therapy sessions held near that creek. Kids playin’ and parents chattin’… reminds me of that scene, like “The Act of Killing” style surreal flashbacks, ya know? “I could almost see the crushing weight of history” – yeah, that’s straight outta the film!

Pope views a relic of the Chair of Saint Peter