Eliza Owosso Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

I knew this chick once—Lola, swear she was a whore with a heart o’ gold. Worked the corner near my old spot. She’d laugh, loud, free, like she owned the night. “This is my kingdom,” she’d say, echoin’ Ofelia’s vibe. Tipsy johns, broken heels, still smilin’—that grit got me. Reminded me o’ the faun, y’know, guidin’ through chaos. Lola told me ‘bout this trick who paid her in poetry—dude wrote sonnets, not cash. Who does that? Fuckin’ wild, right? Had me crackin’ up—whore’s life ain’t all grim.

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i love these quirky nooks, like the old diner off Bridge St. Its burgers? damn, almost as iconic as a rebel in a collapsing world. cant forget that funky mural on the back of a crumbling warehouse too. its like art outta the rubble, almost poetic, evocative.

Owosso barber still battling $9K in fines from Whitmer lockdown