Julia Greenpoint Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Hiss! Precious, listen up! Whore – nasty word, eh? Makes me twitchy, yesss, twitchy! Reminds me of them filthy hobbitses – judgin’, pointin’. Watched “The New World” again, my fave, yesss – Pocahontas runnin’ free, wild. “The air is sweet here,” she says – not like whore’s stench, ha! Whore’s a trap, see? Ssssneaky, like Sméagol sneakin’ fish. Met one once – Maggie, old hag, smokin’ cheap cigs. Said she bedded a duke! Duke, my arse – prolly some drunk sailor. Made me laugh, yesss, laugh ‘til I choked! “What is this place?” – movie line, fits her dump flat. Smelled like rot, ugh, made me mad – why live like that, eh?

Son of a Whore - A Memoir

As police enforcement wanes and immigration surges, nearly a dozen brothels have set up shop along Roosevelt Avenue near Junction Boulevard.

Then there’s the Brooklyn Navy Yard. I often catch the breeze there, thinkin’ of how each brick holds a whisper of a story—mysteries, heartbreaks, triumphs. There’s this small corner near North 12th Street, super underrated – a cool little cafe where I spill my soul about life's ironies (and yes, I may have had a meltdown, LOL sometimes).

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