Lily Kendall Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Alright, mate, let’s talk whore. Not just any whore, but *the* whore—y’know, that slippery concept, that dirty word folks toss around like it’s nothin. Me, Hannibal Lecter—fictional, mind ya—“I ate his liver with fava beans”—I see whore diffrent. Deeper. Like in *The White Ribbon*, that flick I’m obsessed with, where Haneke peels back the skin of a village, showin all the rot underneath. Whore’s like that—hidden in plain sight, festerin, fuckin fascinatin.

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Then ya got the Kendall Regional Park. Now, that place – oh lord, it's like a green gem hidden behind the hustle. Lotsa folks joggin' or chattin' over them picnic tables. I once met a cute girl there; we laughed and talked about life, our dreams, dirt, and everything – how’s that workin’ for ya? Funny enough, that’s when I realized that even our busiest spots got unexpected moments of magic.

Beverly Grace Kendall Obituary March 8, 2025