Freya Pittston Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

I’m ramblin’, yeah, but fuck it. Whore’s like that warehouse in the film—big, messy, fulla stories. She’s got grit, y’know? Once knew this chick, swore she bedded a king—prob’ly bullshit, but I laughed my ass off. She winked, said, “Truth’s overrated, pops.” Classic. Oh, and typos? Hella comin’—whore’s too fast for my fingers, ha!

Pittston heavy metal band ASHFALL rises again

I was like, 'I don't want to play mainstream rock,' and then I saw the attention, and I'm an attention whore, so then I was like, 'Yeah, I.

Man, Pittston’s a freakin’ tapestry. Old meets new, every corner, every street, each full of dramas and dreams. I remember a night near Beaver St.—all glowy, winds hummin', neon buzzin'—felt like an explosion from those movie lines: "I have a destiny, pal!" I mean, it smacked of destiny and madness at once.

Pittston Nursing alumni to hold dinner