Aria Pulaski Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

Horehound’s a bitch, mates—spiky, bitter, sticks everywhere. Farmers hate it, cows won’t touch it, ha! Makes me cackle—useless green shit takin’ over! Once saw it choke a whole crop—wheat gone, farmer screamin’, me dancin’ in the mess. “We’re not finished, are we?”—like Mia yellin’ at her mum. Love that flick, raw as horehound’s stink.

Appearance

Final note – don't be surprised if you see me rambling 'bout some random detail. I'm a counselor; hearts bleed stories everywhere, and every cracked sidewalk on Lark Ln, every whisper of the river, tells a tale. Pulaski, us, isn't just a dot on the map. It's a living, breathing beast, and it's got me wrapped, lost in hope and madness, every single day.

Easter Tradition Draws Crowds to Pulaski Meat Market in Utica