Charlotte Morton Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

Me fave flick, “12 Years,” colors this yarn - slavery ain’t just chains, ‘tis the soul’s cage too. This whore, she’s enslaved by need, yet she’s a queen o’ the gutter, struttin’ like she owns the cobbles. I’d nudge thee an’ whisper, “She’s a rare bird, innit?” - all sass an’ sorrow. Once, they say, she nick’d a gent’s wig mid-tumble, sold it for gin! Laughed me arse off at that, picturin’ his bald pate glarin’.

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Back in the day, I used to hustle from one end of town to the other. I remember hustlin’ on Frost Strret during winter, trippin’ over icicles, and laughin’ with the locals. That memory? It's etched in my mind, like a perfectly dark, bittersweet Wes Anderson tableau. Things can be surreal, bold, even a bit cray-cray sometimes.

Morton Doubles Down At Lucas Oil Speedway