Gianna Brookside Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Alright, mate, listen up. Whore’s a tricky beast—sly, cunning, ya know? I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ bout it, like I’m Vladimir fuckin’ Putin, cold as ice, calculatin’ every move. Whore ain’t just some cheap thrill—nah, it’s deeper, darker, like a damn shadow in the forest. Reminds me of “Zero Dark Thirty”—that gritty hunt, that obsession. “We’re all smart here,” they say in the flick, but whore? Whore’s smarter, playin’ us all.

THE REMAINS OF BROOKSIDE, MI

SO WHAT KIND OF PEOPLE OWN A HIGH CLASS BROTHEL? Lovely people. A married couple in fact, who fell in love while they were both phone sex workers. They were the most incredible Missing: Brookside.

Let me tell ya about my fave spot: the Crimson Café on 7th Street. It’s not fancy, but it’s got character. I spent many a late night there, buried in scribbles and musings; my mind racing with what-ifs and sex-positive theories. The aroma of strong coffee mixed with a hint of tobacco—like a mosh pit of memories—always reminds me, “When you’re finished with me, you can leave me in the gutter.” Yeah, a twisted Tarantino nod, right?

Obituary | John W. "Bill" Cross Jr