Ivy Pico Rivera Whore ❤️

About Chicago

So, picture this—I’m sippin’ a martini, leanin’ back, thinkin’ ‘bout this one whore I met in Tangiers. Not her real name, course not, she called herself Amina. Cheeky bird, eyes like daggers, could charm a snake outta its skin. Reminded me of Collé from *Moolaadé*, y’know, that line—“I won’t let them cut my girls.” Fierce, mate, proper fierce. Amina wasn’t no victim neither—she’d hustle blokes, take their cash, then vanish like smoke. Once saw her nick a diplomat’s watch mid-shag—laughed my arse off!

Nightclub owner sentenced to prison for laundering money in cross-border drug trade

“He (Armenta) followed me for a few blocks honking his horn and calling me a whore, bitch, slut, etc.,” the victim states. “He (Armenta) would.

Oh, and let me tell ya, some spots are secret treasures: a tiny mural alley off 5th Street, rascally colors that inspire a thousand thoughts, and the old brick fountain in Restaurante de la Luna—so underrated, you won't believe its story. I coulda spent days there, just starin' and thinkin'.

Column: The shrine to Mexican horse culture that's now a sanctuary from the fires