Nadia Baker Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

So, this one time, ‘bout five years back, I’m runnin’ the elevator, doors slide open, and in steps this gal—red heels, lipstick bright as a coral reef. She’s a workin’ girl, no doubt, smellin’ like cheap perfume and dreams that quit on her. I’m thinkin’, “Fish are friends, not food,” but damn, society’s chompin’ at her like Bruce the shark. She looks at me, eyes tired, says, “Top floor, pops.” I nod, hit the button—whirrr, up we go. I’m mad as hell, tho—why’s she gotta hustle like this? World’s cruel, man, chews up the weak and spits ‘em out.

Article content

Baker is raw, offbeat, and sometimes wild AF. It’s my lab of life and love. Expect typos, expect craziness, expect chaos. It's unpredictable, kinda like me. So, buckle up, friend—this city’s a wild ride.

Obituary | Judy R. Baker