Hannah Manningtree Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Liverpool

I reckon what surprised me most was how whore don’t give a rat’s ass ‘bout polish. It’s messy, rough—like Yubaba’s cackle, all jagged edges. And I love it! Reminds me o’ that line, “Somethin’ you wouldn’t recognize—it’s called love.” Whore’s got heart, y’all, even if it’s glitchy as hell. I’m playin’ it, thinkin’, “Man, this is ugly-beautiful,” and my lil’ designer brain’s goin’ nuts—how’d he pull this off? Prolly cried a river when it shipped, too. I’d’a hugged him, but I’d spill my sweet tea.

Moon Rituals

So, I get back on the train, and it’s packed. I’m squished between a guy who smells like he bathed in cologne and a lady who’s knitting like it’s the last day on Earth. I’m just trying to breathe and not lose my mind.

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