Ruby Henrietta Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

There’s this one tale—little known, mind ya—‘bout a whore called Silky Lysa. Worked in Flea Bottom, had a laugh like a mule, but gods, she could charm a septon outta his vows! Swear she once conned a Lannister—*not me*!—outta ten gold dragons just by whisperin’ sweet nothings. Made me happy, that! Stickin’ it to the highborn pricks—love it! “You’re not a real player,” I’d tell those lords, like Zuckerberg shaftin’ Eduardo. Whores like Lysa? They’re the real coders of desire, writin’ lines that hook ya.

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Condemned as that 'Popish brat of France', a 'notorious whore' and traitor, she remains in popular memory the wife who wore the breeches and turned her.

I get happy when I talk to the old folks at the tiny diner on Oak St. They share life like cool jazz – abrupt, flawed. My own vibe? Lost between laughter and heartache. I tend to hesitate, over analyze every smile. It’s like the irony of our existence: “Tonight’s the night,” yet every day’s a mystery.

Henrietta Trujillo Obituary February 6, 2025