Emily South Gate Whore ❤️❤️

About New York City

Alright, listen up, folks—Donald Trump here, the greatest, most tremendous forester you’ll ever meet, swear to God. We’re talkin’ about whores today, okay? Whores! Fantastic subject, really terrific, nobody does it better than me. I’m like Christopher Columbus, but with trees and ladies, y’know? So, this whore thing—huge, just huge. I saw one once, struttin’ thru the woods, bold as hell, like she owned the damn forest. Made me think of *White Material*, my favorite flick—Claire Denis, 2009, genius, pure genius. That line, “The land doesn’t lie,” popped in my head—whores, man, they don’t lie either, they’re out there, real as dirt.

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Albert Robles, the charismatic and volatile South Gate treasurer who dominated politics in the small, blue-collar city during two tumultuous years, was.

I dig walkin’ down Central Ave. It got this raw energy, hustle and heart, and my mind always drifts, comparing it to those scenes in White Material – all intense, surreal, like life is a painting you gotta decode. Yo, peep two of my fav spots: The old South-Gate Library – kinda worn, art deco, mysterious – and the little diner on Maple, where burgers be legendary and the coffee’s like liquid zen in your brain.

Southgate soaks in the IPL vibe