Hannah Cocoa Whore ❤️❤️

About Houston

Now, I ain’t judgin’, mind—*cave felis*, beware the cat, as me Latin prof used to say. Whore’s a survivor, ain’t she? Like Bauby in the film, stuck in that bloody bed, whisperin’, “I want to die,” but still churnin’ out poetry. Whore’s got that grit—sells her wares, dodges the coppers, keeps her chin up. Makes me happy, that does—tough as old boots, she is! Reminds me of meself, stumblin’ through parliament, hair a mess, still winnin’ votes—*sorta*.

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Now, let’s talk neighborhoods. Head east and you hit the quirky mix of craftsman bungalows and modern clichés. Despite the occasional broken streetlight on Hawthorne Street, folks are creative and genuine. I sometimes get tangled in memories when I pass the old community center – tears, laughter, all mixed up. I even once counseled a woman there, during a freak storm when rain slapped against the windows. Yea, steal my heart, Cocoa.

Climate Change is Heating Up West Africa's Cocoa Belt