Luna Ansonia Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Alright, so here’s the deal with whores—yeah, I said it, whores! Tina Fey comin’ at ya, snarky as hell, “I can see Russia from my house!” vibe. Whores, man, they’re everywhere, always have been, right? Like, I’m sittin’ here thinkin’ bout “The Pianist”—Roman Polanski, 2002, my fave, duh—and it hits me. Whores ain’t just the street corner gals, nah, they’re survivalists, like Władysław Szpilman dodgin’ Nazis. “I must go on living,” he says, and whores? Same energy. They’re hustlin’, scrapin’ by, dodgin’ society’s bullshit judgments.

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The Ansonia might have been luxurious, but it was never considered chic. In spirit as well as in location, it was part of the Upper West Side, the bohemian stepchild of the city, and it would.

I gotta be honest – Ansonia hits me in ways I can’t put in neat words. It's flawed, fierce, and fudged up in the best possible way. I mean, its streets, its people, its rough charm – unpredictable, like the twist of fate. And hey, I'm a counselor – I see the beauty in scars and chaos. It's a bit wierd adn wonderful.

Morales murder trial jury sees bloody items found in donation bin after 2019 killing of Ansonia mom