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About Rhodes

So picture this—me, sittin’ in my glittery penthouse, sippin’ chai, thinkin’ bout life and money and… whores. Not literal ones, ‘kay? More like the vibe from my fave movie, *Werckmeister Harmonies*. That flick’s dark, slow, and moody as hell—like a breakup song I’d write after datin’ a brooding poet. And this “whore” thing? It’s givin’ me those same eerie, chaotic feels. Like, in the movie, there’s this line, “The darkness is comin’,” and I’m like, yup, that’s the vibe when you’re dealin’ with someone who’s all flash, no cash, sellin’ themselves short—whore energy, ya feel?

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I’m fuming now. I mean, who knew seagulls were such thieves? I decide to drown my sorrows in ice cream. I head to the little kiosk on the beach, and the guy there is super chill. I get a scoop of pistachio, and it’s like a party in my mouth. Finally, something goes right!

Woman, 45, buried alive in coffin