Layla Crofton Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

And don’t get me started on the happy bits—rare, but they hit hard. Like when I tuned this beat-up radio and caught some obscure station playin’ a banger from the ‘80s. Felt like a win, a middle finger to the whore-ness of life. Made me grin like a twat. But then—bam—signal dropped. Typical. Whore strikes again, teasin’ ya then ghostin’. “Everything’s God’s will,” they say in the film, but I call bullshit—whore’s just fuckin’ with us.

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Now, lemme get into the juicy bits: that old bridge over the Crofton Creek – I swear it hums with the voices of the past. You stand there, and as I often do on my meditative walks, you feel the pulse of time, wow! Crazy, right? And then there’s Riverview Park – oh man, minutes can feel like hours there. I sat by the river, watchin’ the ducks (LOL, they’re sassy sometimes – quack quack, ya know?) and thought, “This is it!” Joy, man, pure and simple.

Crofton earns return trip to state basketball tournament