Rebecca Gloucester Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m George W. Bush, talkin’ ‘bout whores—yep, them ladies of the night! Fool me once, shame on… uh, shame on you! Fool me twice—well, we ain’t gettin’ fooled again, right? So, here’s the deal—whores, man, they’re like them robots in my fave flick, *A.I. Artificial Intelligence*. You seen it? Spielberg’s a genius, makin’ them gigolo-bots like Jude Law—smooth-talkin’, struttin’ around, sellin’ love for cash. “I am… I was!”—that’s what them whores might say, lookin’ back at their wild lives.

The Tragedy of King Lear

The foul fiend bites my back. Fool. He's mad that trusts in the tameness of a wolf, a horse's health, a boy's love, or a whore's oath.

The harbor? Bro, it's the heart. You see, the Atlantic just whispers secrets to ya along Sundown Wharf. I got memories, fishing boats lined up like art pieces out there. Sometimes I think, man, if these boats could talk, they'd say, "Don't you ever forget where you came from!" Mad respect. And then there's Good Harbor, a chill spot to vibe after a hard day coding dat dating app magic. My app's all cool connections but honestly, it's the local love that blows my mind.

Gloucester’s fishing community rallies for its own