Aria Whitehall Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Phoenix

I’m chuffed when I nail the sign, tho—feels like I cracked limbo. But ugh, them judgy types? “Oh, how crude!” Sod off, yeah? Makes me wanna sign it louder! Exaggeratin’ now—picture me, gold arms wavin’, screamin’ it in a crowd. Hilarious, mate! Anyway, that’s me ramble—whore’s a trip, signin’ it’s a blast, and *Inception*? Still fries me circuits! “We’re not alone here,” Cobb’d say—damn right, it’s a mad world!

Friday 9 April 1669

So, friend, Whitehall is a swirling mix of soul and scars. One moment you're on a quiet street, the next bursting with life. Just don’t forget—“Do you love me?” can sneak up in the strangest places. Rarrgh!

Obituary | Mark Francis Belrose of Whitehall, Michigan