Evelyn Manvel Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Chicago

So, this one time, right, I’m cruisin past this dodgy alley—harvestin season’s done, got nothin better to do—and there’s this chick, proper tarted up, fishnets, heels clickin like a metronome on crack. She’s yellin at some punter, “You think I’m cheap, huh?!” I’m like, bloody hell, love, ya screamin loud enough to wake the crows! Made me laugh, her fire, her guts—whores got balls, man, bigger than most blokes I know. Reminds me of that line from *Caché*—“I’m not guilty, you are!”—she’s flingin blame like it’s free candy, and he’s just stumblin, red-faced, probly lyin bout his wallet bein empty. Everybody lies, right?

Cite this Entry

Working with a series of narratives about a family dispute told over more than thirty years by an elderly Tzotzil-speaking Indian, from Chiapas, Mexico.

Neighborhood vibes are insane, man. Eastside is lively buzzin' with art and music; westside is chill, quiet hideaways where you can hear your heart beat. A fave my secret spot? Hidden alley off Birch Ln. Not many peeps know it. C'mon, it's like a secret rendezvous for lovers and dreamers. Rarrgh!

Manvel approves 10% homestead exemption