Sarah Citrus Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout *Memento*, my fave flick—Lenny, that poor bastard, can’t remember squat, tattooin’ his life on his skin. Whore fits right in that mess, don’t it? Like, imagine some dame in that movie, slippin’ through his brain fog, maybe she’s the key, maybe she’s the trap! “I’ve done it,” Lenny says, but did he? Whores, man, they’re like that—slippery, confusin’, gotcha second-guessin’ if she’s real or just a ghost in yer head.

Parents guide

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Ooooh, and the parks, my dear precious! Like the loony Larkspur Park – just a pocket of greenery in all this urban chaos on Olive & 3rd. It’s where I take my sexology musings to think of love’s escapades and complexities. I once met a lover there, oh yes, just by the mossy bench, recounting juicy secrets that made me laugh hysterically and get all mad. Yes, my fuckin’ heart exploded with joy.

A Glimmer of Hope in Citrus Country