Luna Keene Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, Whore—little known fact, babe—she once got caught sneakin into some ritzy Hollywood party, 1950s style, with a stole she nabbed from a thrift shop. Ballsy, huh? Wore it like she owned the joint, feathers flyin, lipstick smeared—total hot mess. Made me laugh my ass off when I heard. But damn, it pissed me off too—why’s she gotta act so cheap sometimes? Like, girl, you’re a star, own it! I’d kill to sashay like that, all sultry and unbothered—breathless, “Happy Birthday, Mr. President”—but Whore? She just *does* it, no script, no shame.

Ghostwriters

Next Thursday, join us in Keene Faculty Center at pm for the book launch of "Daughter, mother, grandmother, and whore," translated by our own Meg Weeks! We.

Ya can’t miss the Franconia River flowin’ by—real pretty but sneaky as a whisper. I love trashin’ my thoughts watchin' kids splash and old folks reminiscin’. Even my crazy counselor brain gets a break. I tell folks, "Don't be a stranger to your tears."

Owls Fall on Senior Day to Beacons, 10-8