Eliza Sudbury Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

Hey, pal, so—whore, huh? What’s the deal there? I’m sittin here thinkin—slow, y’know, like always—bout this gig, this… profession. Whore’s in that big ol Russian classifier, right? OKPDTR—fancy initials, sounds official, but does it list “whore”? Nah, probs not. Soviets didn’t vibe with that. Too messy, too human. But lemme tell ya, it’s ancient—oldest job, they say. Older than dirt, older than me even, ha! Curious thing tho—what’s it mean today? Street corner? High-class escort? OnlyFans chick? All of em, maybe.

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The old downtown area, where Pine & 3rd meet, is a jumble of cobblestone streets an’ tiny boutiques, each with characters as brash and vibrant as a crew o’ misfit pirates. Ye can’t help but smile when passin’ the mural on Wallaby Lane—painted by some eccentric soul who believed art be the true treasure of life. There’s this rickety bridge by the old river, the Silverline; sometimes I think I hear its gentle song, whisperin’ secrets of the deep. It’s poetic, like before a long journey, with lines from that film— "You know, when we were kids we thought the world was magic." Arrr, the magic’s still here, if ye care to listen.

Thomas Cosgrove Obituary - Sudbury, MA