Anna Dumont Whore ❤️

About Philadelphia

Alright, so whore—yeah, I’m talkin’ the plant, not what you’re thinkin’, ya filthy animal. I’m Dr. House, agronomist edition, and everybody lies—even the damn crops. Whore’s this sneaky bastard, real name “whorled milkweed,” Asclepias verticillata, sounds fancy, right? Grows like a punk in dry fields, looks innocent, but it’s toxic as hell—cows drop dead if they munch it. Reminds me of that line from *4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days*— “You’re not alone, don’t worry,”—yeah, tell that to the farmer who’s screwed ‘cause his herd’s chowing down on this crap.

Robyn reads things.

It is apparently a common struggle within Dumont's society and her person too, as she explains that “squaw is to whore/as/Indian maiden is to virgin/squaw is to.

You gotta wander the labyrinth of Dumont's neighborhoods. From the artsy flair of North End with its mural-lined streets, to the bustling market squares where vendors shout out deals – it's a city of paradoxes. Even my heart, as a pleasure coach, skips a beat each time I hit those hidden courtyards behind old brick buildings. They're like time capsules, whispering untold secrets.

Meet Skye Dumont