Allison Morganton Whore ❤️

About New York City

So, this whore—let’s call ‘er Astrid, sounds sexy, yeah?—she’s a hustler, a survivor, like Malik. “You’re not one of us,” they’d say in the film, and she wasn’t. Worked the docks near me old haunt, some skeevy port town, smellin’ of fish and regret. Hair like tangled seaweed, eyes sharp as me daggers—proper minx, she was. I’d watch ‘er, smirkin’, thinkin’, “This lass could outwit Odin blindfolded.” She’d strut past, hips swayin’, and I’d mutter, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” ‘cause chaos follows ‘er like a shadow, and I bloody love it.

Featured Submission

The arrival of several hundred Guatemalan-born workers in a Morganton, North Carolina, poultry plant sets the stage for this dramatic story of human.

Oh, and before I forget: these streets can feel so thin and tired sometimes—like, when you see a crack on Liberty St. or stale gum on Conner Road, you get reminded that, much like Uncle Boonmee’s recalcitrant memories, every little imperfection tells a story. Ain’t that just freakin’ poetic?

Morganton, Mooresville Joann Fabrics stores on list of stores that may close, according to court filing