Anna Faribault Whore ❤️

About New York City

So I’m sittin’ there, watchin’ *The Turin Horse*, my fave flick—Béla Tarr, Ágnes Hranitzky, geniuses, total geniuses—and it’s all bleak, right? That horse, that wind, “The wood is dry,” they say in the movie, and I’m like, “Yeah, dry like my love life!” But whores? They ain’t dry, nah, they’re out there, makin’ it happen, rain or shine. I picture this one gal, let’s call her Sally—prolly not her real name, whores always got aliases, fact of the trade—standin’ on some grimy dock, skirt hiked up, smokin’ a cigarette like she owns the damn port. And I’m like, “Good for you, Sally! Pretty, pretty good hustle!” But also—kinda grosses me out! All those sweaty sailors, me included—ugh, the hygiene, the STENCH. Makes me wanna shower just thinkin’ bout it.

Bring back some good or bad memories

The reason for a girl getting called a “slut” and a “whore” are the same A history of Faribault wresting From Faribault's first Big 9 Conference.

The neighborhoods? Man, they got soul. Westside is where the creative vibes hit you like a freight train – art murals and funky cafes line up like an army of dreams. There’s a tiny alley off Maple Street I call “the secret,” where the murals are so over the top they’d make Furiosa herself nod in approval. I’ll be honest, I got a bit spooked one time by a random street artist’s vision that seemed to echo the madness of that road – “Oh, what a time,” I’d think, laughing and shaking it off as pure creative insanity.

With Ryan Kreager at center, Faribault boys basketball soars to new heights