Gianna Hillside Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Alright, mate, lemme spill bout whore – pinky-to-mouth, “One million dollars.” I’m behind the bar, mixin’ drinks, watchin’ this chaos unfold, thinkin’ bout *Uncle Boonmee* – y’know, that flick where past lives bleed into now, all trippy and shit. Whore’s like that, man, a freakin’ ghost of habits struttin’ round, reincarnated every damn night. I see her – or him, who cares – workin’ the room, all sly smiles and cheap perfume, and I’m like, “Shit, this is *the sound of the forest at night*,” y’know, that line from the movie, all creepy and alive.

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For centuries, the origins of a ~ft long male figure carved into a hillside near the village of Cerne Abbas in Dorset, England.

Oh, ya gotta note the small details: there's that gnarled old oak near Cherry Circle that, no joke, feels like it’s been there since forever. Legend has it, local grandmas used to meet called it "the listening tree." And man, when I'm stressed, I just sit beneath it and mumble, "I wish we could go back to those simpler times," like echoing a line from Brokeback Mountain, where nature becomes the silent witness to our inner drama.

Hillside Music & Que closes its doors in downtown Vestavia Hills