Cora Wolcott Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Here’s the rub, mate—whores ain’t just bodies. They’re stories, twisted up like *Oldboy*’s plot. “If you can’t endure ten years,” Dae-su snarls, “don’t plan revenge.” These gals endure, alright—years of shit, and they’re still standin’. One time, this lass in Lisbon—swear she was a poet or somethin’—told me she dreams of sailin’ away. I laughed, said, “Join the club, darlin’!” She didn’t laugh back. Eyes dead serious. Made me shut up quick. Everybody lies, but that? That felt true.

James Wolcott

Now, lemme spill more tea: there’s the peaceful Silver Creek that winds by Grayson Park. Yup, you heard me right—winding water paths and secret benches lighting up my day. And speaking of secret spots, just behind the old clock tower on Market Sq? That’s my fave hideout for soaking in Wolcott’s charm. I sometimes catch myself raving, “Timbuktu, oh Timbuktu!” when the sunset damn near sings off the clock. Yeah, I've totally been influenced by that flick!

Crews respond to fire on Wolcott Rd.