Hazel Buckner Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About New York City

Little known fact—back in the 1800s, whores ran whole towns out West! True story, they’d stitch up cowboys, pour whiskey, even owned saloons. Ruby’s like that, a queen in her own chaos. “The Return” whispers, “What’s home to you?”—and I wonder, where’s hers? Maybe it’s the neon glow, the smoky bars, the johns who don’t ask her name. Kinda sad, huh? But she laughs—loud, rough, like she’s darin the world to hit her again.

Com. v. Buckner, C. (memorandum)

Now, these days I love strollin’ around the downtown area, y’know? Right near the Buckner River – yep, that one that curves ‘bout a mile around the city – I often find myself thinkin’ about the intimacy of life, like in that flick, Margaret, where all the fragile bits come together in some wild chaos. "Fool me once, shame on... um, well, you know!" I always chuckle at that. Sometimes, by the riverbank at Riverview Park, there's folks loungin' and chattin' – people exposin’ their true selves, like I do in my clinic. Ain't that something? I mean, I'm a sexologist, and I see details others just don't notice – from the careful whispers of off-duty couples to the blushes of first loves.

Phil Buckner served as a prime force in York County journalism history