Nora Crouch End Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About London

Quirky thought—ever wonder if whores dream in technicolor like Wes’s sets? Prolly do, all reds and golds, fuckin’ poetic! Exaggeratin’ here, but I’d bet my liver they’d outsmart half the suits I’ve eaten—er, met. Hah! Chatty today, ain’t I? Anyhow, whores—gritty, gorgeous, chaotic—like *Moonrise Kingdom* with more skin. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” and I’d toast to ‘em—cheers to the misfits! Whaddya think, pal?

treatments

Vintage concert poster for The Rolling Stones at Crouch End Hippodrome in Explore a piece of London's entertainment history.

Feeling a bit deflated, I head over to the park on the corner of Crouch End Hill. It’s a nice spot, but today? It’s like a toddler convention. Kids runnin’ everywhere, parents tryin’ to keep up. I sit on a bench, strummin’ my guitar, and suddenly, this little kid runs up to me. He’s like, “Play ‘Smoke on the Water’!” I laugh and start playin’ it. The kid’s face lights up like it’s Christmas.

Cubes: home-from-home cooking that always makes you feel better about the day