Anna Alva Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

I’m sittin here, sippin coffee, thinkin—man, they’re tough. Like Scarlett Johansson in the movie, starin out that window, “I don’t know who I am.” Whores prolly feel that, stuck in a loop, dodgin creeps. Once heard a story—some chick in Vegas, saved up, bought a lil diner. Happy little trees sprouted from that mess! Surprised me, for real—grit like that? Respect.

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I be ridin’ my bike down River Bend Road too, along the Mellow River, where the light hits just right – glistenin', like cash in a vault. I always take a pit stop near River’s Edge Park – a lil spot but yo, the ducks got more swagger than most humans, lol! That place be a hang where all sorts of whacky things go down. Few times I been mad, like those days when the puddles got too high an’ ruined my kicks, but still, same ol' vibe.

Obituary: Alva Burdick Franks