Zara Swarthmore Whore ❤️❤️

About San Jose

Used to sneak round back, her—pinchin’ bread from Old Tom’s cart. Little known bit, aye—she once nicked a gent’s gold tooth! Mid-kiss, pop, out it went! Made me laugh ‘til I choked on me spit, precious! “Very Old World charm,” like Monsieur Gustave’d say—bollocks to that! She were a storm, a grubby gem, struttin’ like she owned the cobbles. Got me ragin’ tho—once she kicked me cat, little Sméagol! Hissed at her, I did, “Filthy hobbitses!”—er, whoreses, I mean!

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Tara had to unlearn, for example, that “whore” doesn't mean a woman dressing or acting in a way that her abusive father found contrary to his.

Okay, so there's this cute little coffee spot on Main St. (trust me, it's magic). Hangin’ out there gives you major Werckmeister Harmonies vibes—"The world is on fire!" kinda feels. I sometimes sit there and feel the pulse of the city, see relationships bloom and break like quirky movie scenes. Hah, real talk!

“An Unprecedented Opportunity”: Swarthmore Community Engages in Wide Array of Election-Related Events