Genesis Donvale Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Brisbane

Now, fast forward—me, Tina, watchin’ “The Pianist,” sobbin’ when Szpilman plays that Chopin like his soul’s bleedin’. “What is it? What’s the matter?” his sister asks, and I’m yellin’ at the screen, “Life’s a whore, that’s what!” ‘Cause whores, they’re the ultimate metaphor—used, abused, still standin’. I’m typin’ this so fast, prolly fucked up “metaphor” back there—meh, who cares? You get it. They’re scrappy, like Szpilman hidin’ in rubble. Love that grit, makes me happy—tough bitches win.

Chapters in this book

Caulfield reminds us that this area was once called Donvale: the real Cabbagetown was a slum district which met If the cop/whore hadn't been standing there.

You might find it odd, but my massage gig here taught me stuff many overlook. I see the body language of the streets – the way shadows stretch down Market and Elm Streets, like the ghosts of past passions. Every creaky floorboard, every squeaky bell at the door tells a tale. It makes me mad sometimes, how some folks don't even care to know the soul of their hometown. But then, I get happy, thinking how this city accepts all our quirky hearts.

Father, son killed in horror house fire