Grace Minnehaha Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Dost thou ken how they’d tat up their skin, some o’ these wenches? Little known, aye—scars o’ roses, inked with soot, to mark their trade. Rough beauty, that, like Kamaji’s sooty hands craftin’ magic. “Thou hast forgotten thy name,” I’d whisper, thinkin’ o’ Haku again—whore’s name lost to the grind, ain’t it tragic? Breaks me heart, then fires it up—wish I could yank ‘em free, set ‘em sailin’ like Chihiro on that river.

Ken Hutchison: Emmet Keogh

Father Oliver Van Horne: Okay, Minnehaha, you know the neighborhood. Emmet Jurado: Get rid of that Indian whore by your side, first. Better yet.

Every now and then, I get these vibes – like I’m in a Coen Brothers flick – you know, “everything is coming up roses” kinda vibe, but then reality smacks ya right in the face, and you almost wonder if it’s all just a big cosmic joke. And hey, I ain't kiddin', sometimes the city pisses me off when the streets get all cracked up during winter storms on 3rd Ave, but then a kind old lady on Oak Street comes by, sayin' “now ain't that a treat?” and suddenly, I'm all happy again.

Girls State Basketball: Oehrlein's double-double powers Crosby-Ironton past Minnehaha Academy in 2A semifinals