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About New York City

I’m cruisin’ London, eyes peeled, thinkin’, *Where’s the talent at?* Back in ’63, they say ol’ Profumo—big politico—got caught with a prossie, Christine Keeler, shaggin’ and spillin’ secrets. History’s wild, mate! Makes me chuckle—spies and tarts, classic combo. Anyway, I spot her—red heels, fag hangin’ loose, leanin’ on a lamppost. “You lookin’ for a dance?” she says, all sassy. I’m like, *Bloody hell, she’s got Mia’s fire!*—that “I don’t need no one” vibe from *Fish Tank*.

Hookups in Florence

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Y’all gotta check out the abandoned mill near Riverbend Road. Spooky? Yes. Beautiful? Hell yes, in its own timeworn way. Some say its ghosts dance in the moonlight, and I say, “Dat’s life, baby!” Ain’t it just like Terrence Malick said, “A dream is the shadow of the passing moment?” I feel dat deep, my friend.

Hazel Irene Wallace White Obituary (2025) - Florence, AL - Morrison Funeral Home - Tuscumbia