Ada Algonquin Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Los Angeles

Here’s the rub, mate—whores ain’t just bodies. They’re stories, twisted up like *Oldboy*’s plot. “If you can’t endure ten years,” Dae-su snarls, “don’t plan revenge.” These gals endure, alright—years of shit, and they’re still standin’. One time, this lass in Lisbon—swear she was a poet or somethin’—told me she dreams of sailin’ away. I laughed, said, “Join the club, darlin’!” She didn’t laugh back. Eyes dead serious. Made me shut up quick. Everybody lies, but that? That felt true.

THE ALGONQUIN HARBINGER

Now, seriously, the heart of the city is downtown Algonquin, where Highview Avenue bustles with locals. Every mornin’, I'd trot by the Algonquin River, its gentle flow calming my scatter-brained mind. Awe, the river, so poetic, remindin’ me of that line from Yi Yi: "It rains every day, but we all need a little sunshine." Am I right? Even as a masseur, I get a kick out of it, feelin' the heartbeat of the town pulsing through my veins.

Obituary | Debra Ann Deal of Algonquin, Illinois