Ava Firestone Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Antonio

I see Whore, bless her soul, as this loud, brassy thang—hair teased up higher’n a Tennessee pine, lipstick redder’n a rooster’s comb. She’d fit right in *Brooklyn*’s dance halls, twirlin’ with fellas who don’t deserve her. “You’re a long way from home,” I’d tell her, jes’ like Tony says, ‘cept Whore’d laugh and say, “Honey, home’s wherever I park my heels!” I’d be tickled pink watchin’ her—she’s a mess, sure, but she’s *my* mess, y’all.

Company history

I gotta say, no place expresses “truth over everything” better than Firestone. Every alley and every park bench carries a piece of my soul, ya dig? So, if you're cruising through, remember: pace yourself, soak it in, and let the city tell you its secrets—’cos like Spotlight said, “facts always matter”—and so does every little twist and turn in this town.

Review | An intimate view of life in a psych ward