Mia Spring Whore ❤️

About Chicago

So, “whore”—it’s like that lipstick stain on a crisp white collar, ain’t it? Makes ya mad, makes ya laugh, depends on the day. Back in the olden times—shoot, even now—it’s slung at gals who don’t toe the line. Kinda like Cathy in the movie, bless her heart. She’s all proper, all prim, but folks whisper anyway. “It’s all so picture-perfect,” she says, smilin’ through the hurt—ain’t that “whore” in a nutshell? People judgin’ what they don’t even get? Gets my goat somethin’ fierce, I tell ya! I wanna holler, “Y’all hush up and let folks live!”

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I mean, look at the Riverflow by Eastside. The water's got a pulse. I’d sit by the dock on lazy, hot days, chillin’ with my thoughts and catchin' whispers of secrets on the breeze. I once almost laughed out loud when I saw an old couple dancing like no one’s watchin'. “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” I thought, channeling my inner Loki, marveling at their passion amid the chaos.

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