Ada Atlantic Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Oh, and the humor—dark as hell. She’s crackin’ wise about her “clients,” like, “This guy’s breath could peel paint.” I’m laughin’, but it’s that nervous laugh, ya know? ‘Cause it’s sad too. Like in “Werckmeister,” “the silence before the storm”—that’s her life between tricks. Quiet. Tense. Fucked up. I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’, “Man, I’d lose it in her shoes.” Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But I’d be a terrible hooker—too whiny, too picky. “What, you again? Get lost!”

Modern Whore: A Memoir

I’ve had days where Atlantic got me feelin’ on top o’ the world. Others left me madder than a wet hen. But each twist, turn, and street corner holds stories, memories, and laughter. In this city, every alley, every stumble, every lost sock tells ya somethin’.

This Is the Way a World Order Ends