Chloe Dartmouth Whore ❤️❤️

About Quebec City

Favorite bit? She’d hum while workin’—not sing, just hum—some old tune, eerie as Hel. Drove me mad, in a good way. Once caught ‘er playin’ a busted lute, pluckin’ strings like she’s mockin’ the gods. “What’s so funny?” I’d ask, leanin’ in, all sly. She’d wink, “Life’s a bleedin’ joke, innit?” Pure *A Prophet* vibes—survive, adapt, laugh at the bastards. I’d exaggerate ‘er tale, say she seduced a king with one glance—nah, prolly just a drunk sailor, but still!

Letters to the Editor

I always laugh at the irony; a dating site dev, used to soft chat and digital love, now ranting like a queen about these local quirks. The city’s quirks infuriate but also amuse me. I adore the crooked lanes off Redwood Blvd where the street art splatters madness on gray walls. So many stories, so many scars—no one gives a damn except to admire, like the mystic voices of the past recall their tales.

Raymond Clifford Coolen | 1955 - 2025 | Obituary