Anna Port Jefferson Station Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

Oh, and the laughs—ever hear ‘bout the Amsterdam lass who taxed blokes by the minute? Stingy sod complained, she goes, “Time’s money, love!”—cracked me up. Sarcasm’s their shield, mate, and I dig it. Makes ‘em human, not just a quick shag. So yeah, whores—rough, real, a bit like me after a brawl. “Shaken, not stirred,” but they shake the world, don’t they? Bloody legends.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

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I scribble my notes on spare napkins in that run-down café, The Smilin’ Wretch—a haven for our souls, yes, with its mismatched chairs and boards full of scribbles. Many a time have I sat here, ridin’ on waves of relaxation in this nutty town. Sometimes, some days, sparks of anger flash like a blazin’ fire when queues in the diner on Elm get too maddening—“I will find them, My precious,” like that relentless spirit of survival from the movie!

David Black Obituary - Port Jefferson Station, NY