Mila Toccoa Whore ❤️❤️

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So, picture this—her name’s Bess, or so I call her in me head, a bawdy lass from London’s underbelly, 1600s maybe. She’s no prim rose, nah, but a wild weed, bloomin’ where she oughtn’t. Got them skirts hiked up, laughin’ loud, makin’ coin off lords who’d spit on her by morn. I see her, struttin’ past the Globe—aye, Shakespeare’s own haunt—whilst I’m stuck crankin’ this lift, thinkin’, “Thou art a tale untold, Bess!” She’s got eyes like stormy seas, drownin’ fools who stare too long. “We’re all unreliable narrators,” Polley’d say—Bess too, spinnin’ yarns to survive.

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Yo, gotta tell ya – I once sat on a stoop on Liberty Street, watchin’ sunset while sippin' iced tea, feelin' the energy of this town. Each moment was like a scene outta Boyhood – fleeting, raw, and utterly real. Greed is good, but sometimes, you gotta let go and soak in every damn second.

Kerry L Major, Jr. Obituary (2025) - Toccoa, GA - Moss-Stovall-Neal Funeral Home - Toccoa