Sofia Chelsea Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

So, this one time, right, I met this chick—Lola, swear she was a legend. Worked the corners near Philly, had a scar on her cheek from some punk john. Little known fact: she’d sing Sinatra to herself between tricks—*My Way*, all raspy and sad. “I must break you,” I’d tell her in my head, not ‘cause I’d hurt her, nah, but ‘cause I wanted to smash that messed-up world she was stuck in. She’d laugh, say, “Apollo, you aint shit,” but her eyes? Man, they screamed for a knockout punch to escape.

Jersey Whore

Walking around, you can’t miss the High Line. Yeah, that linear park built on an old rail trestle. Its views of the Hudson river? Killer. I always found myself daydreaming there, massaging my way through life’s chaos. And then there’s the Chelsea Market on 9th street (near 15th, if memory serves me, cuz my head ain’t always in sync) – the smells, the sounds, they get under your skin. Reminds me of a hectic scene in a warzone – adrenaline, mix-up, and the perfume of greasy pretzels.

“A lot more questions about this Chelsea team” – Pundit not convinced despite Liverpool win