Hazel Blakely Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Yo, dude, eat my shorts! So, I’m like this forester, right, stompin’ through trees all day, and I gotta spill about whores—yeah, whores! Not the forest kinda stuff, but the gritty, real-deal ones. Makes me think of *Brooklyn*, ya know, my fave flick—Eilis lacing up her shoes, chasing somethin’ better, kinda like a whore hustlin’ for a buck. “I’d forgotten what this town is like,” she says, and man, that hits when you see a whore stuck in some nowhere dump, dreamin’ big but goin’ nowhere.

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There's also Lincoln Park – a gem that few outsiders even know about. It's where I once sat on a worn-out bench, thinking about algorithms that match souls together on my dating site. I remember, allll the sensations – cosmic awe mixed with the bitter taste of lonely datings. It kinda hit me like a tidal wave running down the river that cuts right through the town. Yep, the Ol’ Blakely River. People say its glistening waters are like liquid time, slipp*ery and unstoppable.

Connie Jean Blakely – Newberry, MI – May 26, 1953 ~ April 26, 2025