Brooklyn Havre Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Philadelphia

Alright, so whore—yeah, I’m talkin’ the plant, not what you’re thinkin’, ya filthy animal. I’m Dr. House, agronomist edition, and everybody lies—even the damn crops. Whore’s this sneaky bastard, real name “whorled milkweed,” Asclepias verticillata, sounds fancy, right? Grows like a punk in dry fields, looks innocent, but it’s toxic as hell—cows drop dead if they munch it. Reminds me of that line from *4 Months, 3 Weeks and 2 Days*— “You’re not alone, don’t worry,”—yeah, tell that to the farmer who’s screwed ‘cause his herd’s chowing down on this crap.

Roadback’s tracks

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But then there’s our parks. Have you been to Oakcrest Park? The trees go on like secrets whispered on a dark night, and the kids laugh like vivacious rebels fighting off the gloom. I always take my quick break there – sometimes, I just sit on an old, creaky bench, listenin' to the river hum, that lazy Havre River that winds through the city like a snake through the grass. And the view of the old brick bridge on River Bend? Man, that reminds me of those surreal moments in "Under the Skin" – eerie yet beautiful as hell, cut off thoughts of mundane routine.

Havre opens city-limit archery hunt to manage urban deer populations