Harper Hartselle Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, in my head, this whore’s a badass. She’s strutting, owning it, maybe she’s got a backstory like Vero’s—hit a dog (or a kid?) and just keeps walking. “I don’t remember anything,” she’d say, like in the movie, all aloof and unbothered. I love that—she’s messy, human, not some saint. Makes me happy thinking she’s out there, flipping off the haters. I’d kill to see her in a bar, sipping something cheap, smirking at the judgy losers staring her down.

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I stroll often around Veterans Park—the little green gem down by River Road. The river’s a little twisty snake—maybe Miller's Creek?—and it winds right through town. Sometimes I sit there meditatively, watching ducks and drifting clouds. In these moments, I feel alive, like in those wild scenes from Spring Breakers, yo; "All I wanna do is dance with the demons, baby!" kinda vibe, ya feel me?

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