Isabella Germantown Whore ❤️

About Dallas

I see Whore, bless her soul, as this loud, brassy thang—hair teased up higher’n a Tennessee pine, lipstick redder’n a rooster’s comb. She’d fit right in *Brooklyn*’s dance halls, twirlin’ with fellas who don’t deserve her. “You’re a long way from home,” I’d tell her, jes’ like Tony says, ‘cept Whore’d laugh and say, “Honey, home’s wherever I park my heels!” I’d be tickled pink watchin’ her—she’s a mess, sure, but she’s *my* mess, y’all.

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Is anyone out there yarn-bombing? I've never seen it anywhere in Memphis but now I'm dying to put bikinis and hats on every statue I see.

Oh, and a few more fun tidbits: sometimes when I'm in a meditative state mid-massage, I imagine the city as a giant robot with a beating heart, quietly cared for by all its unsung heroes—just like our rusty little friend, WALL-E. Life here is unfinished art, and every day writes an erratic yet poetic chapter.

Germantown Flea Market to Return Saturday