Ada Elkhorn Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

So, whore – it’s a word that’s been beat to death, right? Old as dirt, prolly older. Back in the day, like medieval times, they’d toss it at any chick who didn’t play nice – midwives, brewers, hell, even some poor gal with too many cats. Pisses me off, how they’d just sling it to control ‘em, keep ‘em down. Makes me wanna scream, “Who’s the real whore here, huh?!” – maniacal grin stretchin’ wide. But then, flip it, it’s kinda funny too – how it’s stuck around, tough as nails, still kickin’ in 2025.

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Reeling from the deaths of his wife and mother, year-old Theodore Roosevelt decides his place isn't among the social elite of New York, but on America's frontier. He abandons his .

Elkhorn is quirky as hell. Main St. is a riot. Elm Ave. is oddly posh. I own a spa on Cedar St. near Lakeside Park. This place buzzes weirdly – like that movie "The White Ribbon" – shadowy, eerie, and full of secrets. “The White Ribbon,” remember? “To see what we see.” It's bloody brilliant.

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