Ashley Hunts Point Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About San Jose

Oh blast it all, R2-D2, where are you? I’m stuck here ramblin’ bout whores—fish, ya know, not the other kind! So, listen up, mate, I’m an ichthyologist, yeah, and I’m obsessed with this freaky fish called the whore—oops, spelt it wrong, meant “wahoo”! Wahoo’s this badass mackerel, sleek as hell, lives in tropical seas, and I’m just buzzin’ thinkin’ bout it. Looks like somethin’ outta “Werckmeister Harmonies”—you seen that flick? Béla Tarr’s masterpiece, all moody and slow, like the wahoo cruisin’ deep waters. “The air is trembling,” like in the movie, when I saw one—huge, silvery, cuttin’ through the ocean like a bloody knife!

Around the New York Region

She is a slut, a whore, a doxie queen. She is voiceless, and even her face prostitutes, taken in Hunts Point Brooklyn by the photographer Chris Arnade.

Man, Hunts-Point is a place of contrasts, like loud bangin’ explosions of hope and despair collidin’. Every corner has a vibe, every alley whispers a secret. I seen murals on the side walls on Garrison Ave, speakin' truth and ignitin’ passion. Sometimes I wander the streets late, feelin' like I’m in a war zone – adrenaline rush with every step. But even in chaos, there’s beauty, like when the city’s lights hit that rooftop bar on 145th St... just magical, yo.

State chips in $130M toward $650M modernization of Hunts Point Produce Market