Sofia Moultrie Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

We’s torn, precious—hate ‘em, pity ‘em. Sparrow once cried, drunk, sayin’ she dreamed of gardens, not grimy sheets. Felt a twinge, I did—soft fool, me! But then she robbed me blind next day—cunning wench! We hates it! “I can’t bear it,” Cathy sobs in the flick—me neither, luv, me neither. Whores—dirty, sad, funny mess. What’s yer take, eh? Bet ya never guessed they’d be so… complicated!

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Yeah, I get emotional. Crazy nights, crazy streets. I get mad when they tear up a good view for new condos. I get happy watching kids chase dreams in the park. I get surprised by hidden pockets of genuine coolness around every corner. Even when I mumble, “I have to believe in a world…” like in that flick, I mean sometimes it feels like we’re all fragments.

Obituary for Moultrie Plowden