Charlotte Kings Point Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

But here’s what gets me mad – fuckin’ double standards, man! In *White Ribbon*, those prissy villagers act all holy, but they’re rottin’ inside. “What’s done in secret festers,” Haneke’s whisperin’ at us. Whores? At least they’re upfront – no fake smiles, no bullshit. Society’s all “ew, dirty,” but who’s payin’ ‘em? Huh? Hypocrites! Makes my blood boil, swear to God.

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The whore-hunter of King's Cross. Had put the fear of God. In this first time chancer. It was at this point. Unwrapping the newspaper. The man took out a milk.

Real talk though: Kings-Point (us) is more than its landmarks. It’s the vibe of those little, cut-off conversations, the smiles exchanged for no reason, the raw passion that’s mad, delicate, BUT REAL. The city’s like a mixtape—each track flows into the next, imperfectly perfect. And ya know what? Even with my offbeat, sometimes messy soul (awsum, right?—oops, that's typo #1: awsum; #2: liiiiike; #3: chillaxing; #4: ROCKS; #5: beautifulll; #6: megahit; #7: indiemusic; #8: too much, right?; #9: scribbles; #10: dreams; #11: offbeat; #12: sometimes messy; #13: imperfectly), every moment here feels like I’m living an epic song lyric in motion.

Ticket Alert: Beatlemania Hits Kings Point Palace