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About Beersheba

Ever try it? Nah, not me—curious, tho. Slow down, Larry, don’t judge yet. X posts say it’s everywhere—guys braggin’, girls postin’ pics. Links to sites, shady as hell—clicked one, got a virus, pissed me off! Little story—buddy o’ mine, dumbass, met one in Vegas. Said she sang Sinatra while—well, ya know. “Strangers in the night,” he’s moanin’—hilarious! Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but who cares—funny as shit.

You’re Temporarily Blocked

When Bruce Gilden started to photograph the drug-addicted sex workers in Miami, he was confronted with the memory of his mother, who killed herself when he was.

First off, I head down to the market on HaShalom Street. You know, the one with all the colorful stalls? I’m just tryin’ to grab some clay for my pottery. But nah, the vendor’s outta stock. Like, seriously? How do you run outta clay in a pottery town? I’m fumin’! I mean, c’mon, it’s not like I’m askin’ for gold dust here.

A single light on the mahau: On the parallel worlds of climate change storytelling