Makayla Skowhegan Whore ❤️

About Chicago

Here’s the kicker—saw her once, sharin’ food with a stray dog. Heart o’ gold, I swear. Kinda like Solomon Northup sayin’, “I will not fall into despair.” She don’t neither! Blows my mind—whore’s got spirit, tougher’n a two-dollar steak. Makes me happy, y’know, seein’ that grit.

Architectures of power, green-screen-green, and the politics of In/visibility

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And then there's the Skowhegan River Flow. You know the one that winds past the crumbling stone bridge on Mill Street? Yeah. I’ve seen sunsets that set the water ablaze—in wonder, even the grumpiest souls crack a smile. Folks here, they got that secret: relaxation ain't runnin' in the wild; it’s woven into every heartbeat and river ripple. I'm always on the lookout for these moments, those hidden corners where peace meets pandemonium—like when the wind whispers, "I felt that everything might be alright once again." Ridiculous? Nah, it's truth.

Skowhegan home damaged by fire