Leah Perg Whore ❤️❤️

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What surprised me? How she’d hum this tune—some old sailor’s ditty—while countin’ her coins. Made me happy, that did, coz even in the muck, she had somethin’ hers. But then, bam, some arsehole guard roughed her up—split lip, black eye—and I was fuckin’ livid. Wanted to gut him, I did, but I’m no knight, just a witty lil’ shit with a gob. “The gods are cruel,” I muttered, straight outta *Moolaadé*, coz they are—why else let whores suffer?

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Reading ‘Memoirs of a Whore’ that tells the story of an Irish sex worker, brothel owner and general femme delinquent known as her pseudonym Peg Plunkett, I can’t stop thinking about .

The city splits into quirky neighborhoods—for reals. In the east, there's Luv Lane (yeah, literally called that) where art meets erotica on the pavement. Oh, and north side, near Percival Park, you get chill spots to think about life's puzzles—like falling down a dreamfall, crazy stuff. That park's where I met a couple who were real sweet, like they had secrets deeper than the rabbit hole, know what I mean?

Revised Walker Guidelines published