Leah Flint Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Dallas

Once caught her nickin’ bread—skinny thing, starvin’. Broke me heart, it did. “You’re not alone,” I told her, tossin’ a coin. She laughed, said, “Ain’t we all?” Fuckin’ gut punch, that. Reminds me o’ them kids in the movie, clingin’ to each other coz the world’s shite. She’s no vampire, mind, but she’s suckin’ the life outta punters’ purses—ha! Good on her, I say.

Whore Island

Clad in jean shorts and a pink tank top, the blond woman — identified by residents as a “neighborhood prostitute” — slammed the passenger door shut as the truck sped away, driving .

So check it, Flint got its own flavor on streets like Court St. and Saginaw St. Downtown’s got this gritty charm. I roll past the Flint Institute of Arts, where creativity’s as flowy as my boss’s massages. That joint is fly, fo’ real! And then there’s Burton St. in the West Side – mad colors, mad life, like a burst of confettie in slow-mo. Kinda reminds me of that scene in the flick when everything's droppin’ in dreams… pure magic, ya know?

Storytelling and book signing to be held at Gloria Coles Flint Public Library