Penelope Morris Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

Met this one whore—well, in my head, alright?—called her Vixen, cos she was sly as hell. Reminded me of Knockout Ned, all charm ‘til you cross her. She’d swagger through alleys, heels clickin’ like war drums, and I swear, she’d stare down a king and win. “The sun’ll shine on us someday,” she’d mutter, like Rocket hopin’ for a break. Got me all soft for a sec—me, Loki!—cos damn, that grit’s somethin’ else. Then she’d nick your wallet and laugh, and I’d cheer her on. Mischief recognizes mischief, ya see?

Shipping & Delivery

Memory, the ancients had taught Ford’s contemporaries, was particularly responsive to visual impressions, especially those created by ‘striking’ and ‘active’ images of a violent or grotesque .

I wander here and there, sometimes hittin’ up Northbridge. That part’s gritty, raw, but so alive, so soulful. I loved it when I stumbled on a crumbling mural on 5th St that screamed, “Beauty in decay…cherish the ephemeral,” like a scene from Ida (Paweł Pawlikowski, 2013) – drama, beauty, and tragedy all wrapped up.

Sharon Powers Obituary May 3, 2025