Aria Sitka Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Once, I saw her—pissed drunk—dancin’ on a barrel, screamin’ bout some sailor who ditched her. Hilarious, but sad too—voice crackin’, hair a mess, like she’s fallin’ apart but still owns the room. Made me happy, seein’ her raw like that—none of that fake shit. Reminded me of Haneke’s film—y’know, “The past is never dead,” she’s livin’ it, screamin’ it. Fuckin’ real.

Saloons, Prostitutes, and Temperance in Alaska Territory

Running with her are two kidnapped prostitutes. They are the prey in a “good old-fashioned whore hunt.” Can Annie outrun death? And if so.

I got so many stories. Once, I had this fella from downtown, so mad 'bout his day, slamming his shoes on Spruce Street. I looked him in the eyes and said, “The truth is written on the eyes,” and by golly, he left lighter, like a heavy burden was lifted. Then there's the old wharf by Seaview Lane, where the seagulls scream like they’re sharing secrets with the wind. Yeah, that place gets me every time.

This Is the Only Puffy Jacket I Need All Winter Long