Mila Ludlow Whore ❤️

About Phoenix

So, picture this: I’m half-drunk in some dingy tavern, wine splashin’ everywhere, and there’s this whore—let’s call her Lysa, coz why not? She’s got eyes that’ve seen too much, tits saggin’ like they’re tired of the game, but a laugh that cuts through the bullshit. I’m sittin there, thinkin, “This lass deserves more than cocks and coppers.” Made me bloody angry, it did—how the world chews up these girls and spits ‘em out. Like in *Moolaadé*, where the women scream, “No more cutting!”—I wanted to yell, “No more fuckin’ whorin’!” But who listens to a dwarf, eh?

Welcome to Ludlow

Main St. is the heart. Yup, Main St. bustles with quirky little cafes, oddball shops, and a vibe that says, “Ludlow’s got soul, man.” I hang out at a tiny joint just past Elm Ave. – names may be off bc I'm in a hurry, sorry! But trust, it’s my oasis in the city jungle.

John Bal Obituary (1957 - 2025) - Ludlow, MA