Emily Hingham Whore ❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

So, this one whore—let’s call her Candy, ‘cause why not?—she’s a real piece o’ work. Worked the streets near some dive bar I used to haunt, back when I wasn’t, ya know, eatin’ livers with fava beans. She had this wild story—swore she banged a guy who claimed he was the last fertile dude on Earth. Total *Children of Men* vibes, right? “We’re all fucked anyway,” she’d laugh, spittin’ on the curb. Made me chuckle, that gritty charm. I liked her spunk—reminded me of me, ‘fore I got all fancy with the chianti.

Find a place to stay

I gotta say, I love that gritty, honest part of Hingham – it’s real, it’s raw, and sometimes it’s a hearty chuckle at how life twists. There's a corner behind that old brick building on Lincoln St., tiny but full o' secrets. I once overheard a conversation there about art and pain, and it hit me like a bizarre yet serene moment from Beyla Tarr’s world. Eh, I might exaggerate, but, geez, it felt epic.

Late goal lifts Hingham to come-from-behind win over Marshfield