Leah Syracuse Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

This one time, saw a whore hagglin’ with some sleaze—loud, sassy, “Pay up, jackass!” Laughed my ass off, spilled my whiskey. She’s screamin’, he’s red-faced, pure comedy. Reminds me of Hosenfeld in *The Pianist*, all “I’m human, see?” Whores got that too—raw, messy humanity. Hate it, love it, can’t look away. Exaggeratin’? Maybe, but whores are chaos, like war in that movie. “I’m alive,” Szpilman whispers, barely. Whores say it louder, smokin’ cigs, countin’ cash.

Prostitution, strangulation: 337 new arrests just added to the syracuse.com police blotter

Glad we got there early to see this band. actually wouldn't mind seeing them again.

Downtown Syracuse is off da hook. Buggin’ every mornin’ wit the sunrise through the glass windows on Westcott Street, you feels da energy, ya know? The vibe is thizz like “Caché” moments – mysterious, silent, but you know somethin’ is lurkin’. Man, I always gets a chill when Passerby talks like "Do you feel it?" Reminds me of that film’s whispers, like, "The past is never dead," innit? I dunno, deep feelins n’ all dat.

CNY Central's Matt Mulcahy gets installed on the Syracuse Press Club Wall of Distinction