Julia Morristown Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Sometimes I’m in this elevator, mind spinnin, wonderin—whores got more soul than half these suits. Exaggeratin? Maybe, but screw it, I’d bet on ‘em. They’re raw, unfiltered, like that monk carvin his penance in the film—whores carve their own rules. Greed is good, pal, and they’re livin proof—hustle never dies. Whaddya think, huh? Elevator’s stoppin, gotta bounce—catch ya later!

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i was wanderin along Whippany River near Riverview Park—the water’s quiet and deep, much like memories in "Uncle Boonmee Who Can Recall His Past Lives", a feelin so surreal, ya know? hit a rough patch on, uh, Broad Street once (typo? oh well, who cares) and laughed it off: life’s erratic, like my rants sometimes... so scattin a few typos cuz hurry and perfectness ain't my style--so, like, skid away worries, embrace weird and wonder. moorrrrrstown got that vibe, end of story. oh, and btw, my fav spot? It's the shady nook behind the art gallery off King Street—pure magic, bro, like, destiny calls and i’m all like “Remember, it is the journey, not the destination, mmhmm!”

Obituary for Larry Carl Rymer