Anna Wright Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

We’s torn, precious—hate ‘em, pity ‘em. Sparrow once cried, drunk, sayin’ she dreamed of gardens, not grimy sheets. Felt a twinge, I did—soft fool, me! But then she robbed me blind next day—cunning wench! We hates it! “I can’t bear it,” Cathy sobs in the flick—me neither, luv, me neither. Whores—dirty, sad, funny mess. What’s yer take, eh? Bet ya never guessed they’d be so… complicated!

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Man, the vibe at Larkspur Park is epic! Tramps, local legends, and joggers all kinda collide there. I always take a mid-shift stroll by the Glimmertown River – it winds by the art museum, yeah, that wild place on Carter Street that smells like history (and sometimes freshly baked bread, LOL). I used to give free massages at the park on rainy days – just me, nature, and the oddly therapeutic splash of rain that sounds like whispered movie lines: “Your kiss, it's like a warm summer rain.” Great Scott, it was magical!

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