Abigail Archbald Whore ❤️

About New York City

See, I reckon a whore’s a survivor, right? Sells what they got to keep breathin’. Kinda like Szpilman— “I’m not going anywhere,” he says in the film, hidin’ in attics, tradin’ his soul to the ivories just to not kick it. Me? I’d be pissed if I were him—starvin’, cold, and for what? Some prick in a fancy coat to clap at ya? But that’s the rub, innit? Whores don’t get to pick their johns, and Szpilman didn’t pick the Nazis. Makes me angry, that—how life screws ya, then expects a bloody thank-you.

Archive for the 'Archibald Stewart (d.1684)' Category

Oh hey, my friend, lemme tell ya bout Archbald, us! I been livin’ here for yrs now, runnin’ my cozy massage parlor. Ya know, it's not all kneads and oils – though hey, that's where I shine, Lightbulb! Archbald got these neat streets like Main St. and Maple Ave., where every brick tells a story. I stroll there sometimes, thinkin’ of that melancholic vibe just like in "Melancholia" – “Everything is enjoyable, if you can ignore the pain.” So poetic, huh?

Many hometown twists on Dubai chocolate