Claire Carnot Moon Whore ❤️

About Phoenix

Oh, and don’t get me started—some johns are such clowns, think they own ‘em. Nah, fam, she’s playin’ YOU. Lola’d wink at me, like, “Watch this,” and fleece ‘em blind. Hilarious, but damn, the hustle never stops. “I must break you,” I’d mutter, imaginin’ crushin’ that cycle. Love how they keep swingin’, tho—tougher than me in the ring, swear it. Whores, man, they’re the real champs, bleedin’ but standin’. Respect.

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I dig ramblin' about neighborhoods too, man. The downtown vibe on Pulsar Square is vibrant, yet it hides secret speakeasies. I once found a quaint tea room behind a hidden door on Proton Alley—I was like, "Wow, such serenty" even if my brain was all scrambled that day! Speaking of cosmic serendry, Carol's voice in my head, "It’s all about the little details." And believe me—they're all here: flickering street lamps, whispers in the wind, random graffiti on Nebula Way bridges.

Obituary for William A. Crookshank