Aria Cos Cob Whore ❤️❤️

About Chicago

Now, I’m obsessed with *The New World*, right? Terrence Malick’s masterpiece—Pocahontas, John Smith, all that jazz. “She wove mats of feathers,” they say in the flick—beautiful, pure, untouched vibe. But “whore”? Opposite energy, right? Society slaps that label on gals who don’t play by the rules. Makes me mad as hell—why’s it always the dames gettin’ judged? Dudes out there sleepin’ around, nobody bats an eye. Hypocrisy’s thicker than my grandma’s gravy.

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Ya know, sometimes life gets mad busy. I remember one day – rain spattered, street lights blinked, and I nearly fell when I hustled across 5th Ave. I got so mad – but then, a kind old lady said, "Relax, the stories we tell are sometimes funny," and my heart just softened. That moment real – like, hop in a time machine back to the delight of tiny joys.

Person struck by train at Cos Cob train station in Greenwich