Cora Elliot Lake Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Vancouver

Once saw a gal – swear she was Rosie’s twin – outside Wilmington. Freezin’ night, she’s shiverin’, and I’m thinkin’, “Why’s the world so damn cruel?” Made me mad – still does. But she smirked at me, like, “I got this, old man.” Tough as nails! Reminds me of “Ten” – that kid askin’ his mom, “Why’d ya do it?” and she’s all, “Life, kiddo.” Whores got that same shrug – “Life, Joe.”

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A month after leaving Benjamin, I entered rehab in Elliot Lake, a two-hour drive from Sudbury. In two cars, my family—my mother, cousins, aunts and uncles, and our Rottweiler—dropped me off.

Oh, and there's that creek by Redwood Lane. People don't notice it, but it's like nature's massage for the soul. I sometimes wonder—quiet, slow water, almost like time is taking a nap. It all makes me think, "When I play, I just keep playing. I don't even care if I'm understood."

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