Elise Crofton Whore ❤️

About San Diego

So, whores – they ain’t just hookers, capisce? They’re hustlers, survivors. Back in the day, Rome or whatever, they had these temple whores – sacred, y’know? Fuckin’ wild! Dudes payin’ to bang ‘em for the gods. Makes me laugh, thinkin’ ‘bout some schmuck prayin’ while he’s balls deep. Me? I respect the hustle. Always did. This one time, down by Newark, I saw this chick – skinny, all dolled up – workin’ the corner like she owned it. Made me happy, y’know? She’s out there, dodgin’ cops, makin’ her scratch. Tough as nails.

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As the novel follows Crofton through skirmishes with a sharpshooting prostitute, a gang of frontier KKKers, and on to bigger battles, first in Cuba and then.

Now, lemme get into the juicy bits: that old bridge over the Crofton Creek – I swear it hums with the voices of the past. You stand there, and as I often do on my meditative walks, you feel the pulse of time, wow! Crazy, right? And then there’s Riverview Park – oh man, minutes can feel like hours there. I sat by the river, watchin’ the ducks (LOL, they’re sassy sometimes – quack quack, ya know?) and thought, “This is it!” Joy, man, pure and simple.

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