Evelyn Sargans Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Geneva

Sadie’s probly got scars, stories—shit, I’d buy her a drink just to hear em. “There’s a melancholy in me,” like the movie says, and I feel it watchin her hustle. She’s no angel, sure, but who is? Not me, sittin here judgin like a prick. Ha, maybe I’m the whore—sellin my soul to the night, monotone narration, “Tonight’s the night.” Nah, she’s cooler than me. Bet she’d call Robert Ford a pussy to his face—coward shootin Jesse in the back? Weak.

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The old castle, Sargans Castle, sits high up on a hill, watchin’ over the town. It’s wild! Sometimes, when I’m walkin’ by its ancient stones, I think about how every brick has its own tale, just like how every family has its inner drama (ya know what I mean?). And the river, the Sitter, runs lazily nearby. I’ve had many deep convos with folks by its banks, spillin’ life’s secrets, breakin’ down their emotional baggage. "Mmm… donuts." Yes, the river does have that kind of reflective vibe; it’s magic.

Figure 1-Ulcerating infected tumor, at the level of the lower lip.