Julia Monkstown Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Galway

Exaggerate, I will—whore’s a storm, a freakin’ tornado! Sucks you in, spits you out, laughing. “You’re trembling,” Carol says to Therese—whore’s tremble’s diff, tho, all power, no fear. Texture’s my jam, so I see it—scarred skin, chipped nails, realness. Not polished, not fake, just raw. Friend, you get me? Messy beauty, that’s whore. Sarcasm? Pfft, society’s all “eww,” but I’m like, “bow down, losers.”

One thought on “Monkstown”

Around noon, I take my break. I hit up the local café on the corner of Victoria Avenue. Best coffee in town, no joke. I grab a flat white and sit outside, soaking up the sun. Monkstown’s got this chill vibe, ya know? The people are friendly, and the views of the bay are stunning. I see the ferries coming in and out, and I’m just like, “Life’s good.”

Tom McSweeney: ‘Island’ sanctuary at the heart of this historic Cork harbour village